Eulogy Kit for Peggy. Sample kit for a fictional person.
Sample kit
For Peggy
Margaret Anne Whitfield (née Doyle)
This is a complete sample kit for a fictional person, so you can see exactly what you get before paying.
A real kit adds a rewrite box and a refund button at the bottom, and is written from your own answers in about three minutes.
Read this first: please verify
A misspelled name is the most common error in an obituary and we cannot check it for you.
Every name, date, age, place and organisation below was used exactly as you typed it. Read each row once, slowly. If something is wrong, fix it in the .docx or ask for a rewrite with the correct spelling written out.
| Text | Appears in | As you typed it |
|---|---|---|
| Margaret Anne Whitfield (née Doyle) | obituary, both notices, program blurb | Margaret Anne Whitfield (née Doyle) |
| Peggy | eulogy, two-minute version, obituary, program blurb, thank-you notes | Peggy |
| Mam | eulogy goodbye, two-minute version, cue cards, alternative closings | We three called her Mam, the Cork way |
| 3 March 1941, Cork, Ireland | eulogy life, obituary, notice, program blurb | Born 3 March 1941 in Cork, Ireland |
| 28 August 2026, Portland, Oregon | eulogy life, obituary, both notices, program blurb | died 28 August 2026 in Portland, Oregon |
| Age 85 | eulogy life, obituary, both notices | age 85 |
| Dairy farm outside Cork; eldest of five | eulogy life, two-minute version, obituary | Grew up on a dairy farm outside Cork, the eldest of five |
| Nursing training in Cork | eulogy life, obituary | Did her nursing training in Cork |
| Boston, 1962 | eulogy life, two-minute version, obituary | emigrated to Boston in 1962 |
| Tom Whitfield; married 1965; 61 years | eulogy, two-minute version, obituary, program blurb, words of thanks | Married Tom Whitfield in 1965 / her husband of 61 years, Tom |
| St Vincent's Hospital; 31 years; night shift; maternity ward | eulogy, two-minute version, obituary, notice, thank-you notes | Worked 31 years on the night shift at St Vincent's Hospital, mostly on the maternity ward |
| Portland, Oregon, 1998 | eulogy life, two-minute version, obituary | Moved to Portland, Oregon in 1998 to be near the grandchildren |
| Retired 2003; parish food pantry every Tuesday until 82 | eulogy life, obituary, cue cards | Retired in 2003 and volunteered at the parish food pantry every Tuesday until she was 82 |
| The Callahans; winter of 1996 | eulogy quality one, cue cards, two-minute version, delivery guide, self-check | When the Callahans' house down the road flooded in the winter of 1996 |
| Learned to drive at 58 | eulogy quality two, cue cards, obituary | She learned to drive at 58 because Dad said she never would |
| Ella, born 2008 | eulogy quality three, cue cards, delivery guide | When my daughter Ella was born in 2008 |
| Sean (Maria) | obituary, program blurb, eulogy opening, words of thanks | children Sean (Maria), Aoife (David) and Niall |
| Aoife (David) | obituary, program blurb, eulogy opening, words of thanks | children Sean (Maria), Aoife (David) and Niall |
| Niall | obituary, program blurb, eulogy opening, words of thanks | children Sean (Maria), Aoife (David) and Niall |
| Ella, Jack, Rosa and Finn | obituary, program blurb | grandchildren Ella, Jack, Rosa and Finn |
| Bridget Doyle of Cork | obituary | her sister Bridget Doyle of Cork |
| Patrick and Nora Doyle; Michael and Denis | obituary (preceded in death by) | Her parents, Patrick and Nora Doyle, and her brothers Michael and Denis |
| Father Brennan | eulogy opening, cue cards, words of thanks | Father Brennan, who visited her at home every week, will celebrate. |
| Saturday 5 September 2026 at 11 am, St Brigid's Catholic Church, Portland; reception in the parish hall | obituary, both notices, words of thanks, thank-you note (attended) | Funeral Mass, Saturday 5 September 2026 at 11 am, St Brigid's Catholic Church, Portland; reception to follow in the parish hall |
| Kerrigan and Sons Funeral Home | obituary, words of thanks, self-check | Arrangements by Kerrigan and Sons Funeral Home. |
| Cedar Hill Hospice | obituary, words of thanks, thank-you notes (donation, care staff) | In lieu of flowers, donations to Cedar Hill Hospice, whose nurses cared for her at home. |
| Aoife, the middle of three children, speaking for Sean and Niall | eulogy opening, two-minute version, delivery guide | Aoife / Her middle child. We three called her Mam, the Cork way. I am speaking for all of us. |
| Sean as backup reader | delivery guide, self-check | My brother Sean |
| Nobody ever regretted being kind | eulogy legacy and goodbye, two-minute version, obituary, program blurb, alternative closings | 'Nobody ever regretted being kind.' She said it so often we stopped hearing it. |
| That'll do | eulogy opening, legacy and goodbye, words of thanks, alternative openings and closings | saying 'that'll do' about everything from a dinner to a wedding |
| Crosswords in pen; Cork hurling team; Sinatra on Sunday mornings; roses along the back fence; a proper cup of tea | eulogy legacy, obituary | Crosswords in pen, the Cork hurling team, Sinatra on Sunday mornings, her roses along the back fence, a proper cup of tea |
Written from the memories you typed; nothing was added from outside sources.
This kit is not a substitute for the funeral home's or the newspaper's own requirements. Check their word limits, deadlines and formats before sending anything.
The eulogy
For Peggy
About 745 words, roughly 5 minutes at a spoken pace (you chose 5 minutes (about 700 words); the target was about 700 words). pause means stop and breathe out; breathe comes before the goodbye.
Good morning. My name is Aoife, and Peggy was my mother. I am the middle one of her three children. I am speaking this morning for Sean and for Niall, and for myself. Thank you for coming. Thank you, Father Brennan, for the visits at home every week, and for this morning. If Mam were here, she would look around this church, count the heads, nod once, and say, that'll do. So I will keep this the way she liked things. Plain, and not too long.
Margaret Anne Doyle was born on the third of March, 1941, on a dairy farm outside Cork. She was the eldest of five. She did her nursing training in Cork, and in 1962 she left for Boston. Three years later she married Tom Whitfield. They were married for sixty-one years. For thirty-one of those years she worked the night shift at St Vincent's Hospital, most of them on the maternity ward. She helped other people's babies into the world in the middle of the night. Then she came home and raised three of her own. In 1998 she and Tom moved to Portland to be near the grandchildren. She retired in 2003, which for Peggy mostly meant volunteering instead. Every Tuesday, at the parish food pantry, until she was eighty-two. She died on the twenty-eighth of August, peacefully, surrounded by family. She was eighty-five.
The first thing to say about Peggy is that she was generous, and that she was generous quietly. In the winter of 1996 the Callahans' house down the road flooded. She did not ask anyone. She went down the road and brought six of them home. For three weeks there were six extra people sleeping in our living room. She cooked for eleven every night. She made school lunches for children who were not hers. She washed everyone's clothes. And she never mentioned it again. Years later I asked her about it. She looked at me as if I had made it up, and said she could not remember. I think she meant it. To her it was not a story. It was simply what a person did. pause
The second thing is that she was stubborn, in the best way. Peggy learned to drive at fifty-eight. She learned because Dad said she never would. She failed the test twice. She passed on the third go. She came home, put the licence on the kitchen table in front of him, and said nothing. After that she drove herself to work every night. She kept that licence in her purse until the end. Anyone who asked was shown it. Anyone who did not ask was shown it anyway. That was Peggy. Told she could not, she simply did. pause
The third thing is the one the nurses at St Vincent's knew long before we did. Peggy was steady. On the maternity ward they called her the calm one. When my daughter Ella was born in 2008, I was frightened of everything. My mother came to the hospital and sat with me through the whole first night. She said very little. She held my hand, and she held Ella, and when I cried she let me cry. She knew when to talk and when not to. Most of the time she chose not to. That is a rarer gift than it sounds. pause
Here is what she leaves us. Four grandchildren she crossed a country to be near. A row of roses along the back fence that will need looking after now. A pile of crosswords done in pen, because pencil was for people who were not sure. Sinatra on a Sunday morning. A habit of saying that'll do, which all three of her children have caught and cannot shake. And one sentence she said so often that we stopped hearing it. Nobody ever regretted being kind. We hear it now. I think we will hear it for the rest of our lives.
breathe Mam. Thank you for the night shifts and the school lunches and the hand held through the long first night. Thank you for showing us that kindness is something you do, not something you say. You did the work of a whole life quietly, and you did it well. We will look after Dad. We will look after each other. And we will try to be kind, because you told us that nobody ever regretted it. Rest in peace, Mam. You did more than enough. That'll do.
Cue cards
Swipe through the cards on a phone. In print, each card is on its own page. The first sentence of each beat is written out so you can look up and find your place again.
- Card 1
Good morning. My name is Aoife, and Peggy was my mother.
- Middle of three; speaking for Sean and Niall too
- Thank everyone for coming; thank Father Brennan for the weekly visits
- If Mam were here: count the heads, nod once, that'll do
- Keep it plain, not too long
- Card 2
Margaret Anne Doyle was born on the third of March, 1941, on a dairy farm outside Cork.
- Eldest of five; nursing training in Cork; Boston in 1962
- Married Tom in 1965; sixty-one years
- Thirty-one years of night shifts at St Vincent's, maternity ward
- Portland in 1998 for the grandchildren; retired 2003; food pantry every Tuesday until 82
- Died 28 August, peacefully, surrounded by family; 85
- Card 3
The first thing to say about Peggy is that she was generous, and that she was generous quietly.
- Winter of 1996: the Callahans' house flooded
- Six of them in our living room for three weeks
- Cooked for eleven; school lunches; everyone's washing
- Never mentioned it again; could not remember it years later
- Not a story to her; simply what a person did. pause
- Card 4
The second thing is that she was stubborn, in the best way.
- Learned to drive at fifty-eight because Dad said she never would
- Failed twice; passed on the third go; licence on the kitchen table; said nothing
- Drove herself to work every night after that
- Licence in her purse until the end; everyone got shown it
- Told she could not, she simply did. pause
- Card 5
The third thing is the one the nurses at St Vincent's knew long before we did.
- Steady; the calm one on the ward
- Ella born in 2008; I was frightened of everything
- Sat with me the whole first night; said very little; let me cry
- Knew when to talk and when not to; a rarer gift than it sounds. pause
- Card 6
Here is what she leaves us.
- Four grandchildren she crossed a country to be near
- The roses; crosswords in pen; Sinatra on a Sunday
- That'll do, which all three of us have caught
- Nobody ever regretted being kind. We hear it now.
- Card 7
breathe Mam. Thank you for the night shifts and the school lunches and the hand held through the long first night.
- Kindness is something you do, not something you say
- We will look after Dad, and each other
- We will try to be kind; nobody ever regretted it
- Rest in peace, Mam. You did more than enough. That'll do.
The two-minute version
About 273 words. For the graveside, a second speaker, or when the family asks you to keep it short. Same voice, one story, the goodbye.
My name is Aoife, and Peggy was my mother. I am speaking for my brothers Sean and Niall as well as for myself. Thank you for being here. I have been asked to keep this short, which she would have approved of.
Margaret Anne Doyle was born in 1941 on a dairy farm outside Cork, the eldest of five. She trained as a nurse, left for Boston in 1962, and married Tom Whitfield in 1965. For thirty-one years she worked the night shift at St Vincent's Hospital, most of them on the maternity ward. In 1998 she and Tom moved to Portland to be near the grandchildren. She died on the twenty-eighth of August, peacefully, surrounded by family. She was eighty-five.
If I can tell you one thing about her, it is this. In the winter of 1996 the Callahans' house down the road flooded, and Peggy brought six of them home. For three weeks they slept in our living room. She cooked for eleven every night, made school lunches for children who were not hers, and washed everyone's clothes. She never mentioned it again. Years later I asked her about it, and she said she could not remember. I think she meant it. To her, that was simply what a person did. pause
She had one sentence she said so often that we stopped hearing it. Nobody ever regretted being kind. We hear it now.
breathe Mam, thank you for the night shifts and the lunches and the hand held when we were frightened. We will look after Dad, and we will look after each other. Rest in peace. That'll do, Mam. That'll do.
Alternative openings and closings
Swap one in by copying it over the opening or the closing in the .docx. No rewrite needed.
Alternative openings
- Opening 1
Good morning. I am Aoife, Peggy's daughter. I may need to stop once or twice while I say this, and she would not have minded. She spent thirty-one years of nights sitting with people who were frightened, and she never hurried one of them. So I will take my time, and I will tell you about her.
- Opening 2
Good morning. My name is Aoife, and I am the middle of Peggy's three children, which, as any middle child will tell you, is a full-time job. Mam measured most things, including speeches, with two words: that'll do. I am going to try to earn them this morning.
Alternative closings
- Closing 1
Mam, you told us that nobody ever regretted being kind, and you spent eighty-five years proving it. We will try to do the same. Rest in peace.
- Closing 2
She would not want a fuss, so I will finish the way she finished everything, from a dinner to a wedding. That'll do, Mam. That'll do. May she rest in peace.
The obituary and notices
Newspaper and funeral-home convention: announcement, life summary, survived by, preceded in death by, service details, in lieu of flowers. Anything in [brackets] is a fact you did not give us; fill it in or remove it before sending.
Obituary (306 words)
Margaret Anne Whitfield (née Doyle), 85, of Portland, Oregon, died peacefully, surrounded by family, on 28 August 2026.
Peggy, as she was known to everyone, was born on 3 March 1941 in Cork, Ireland, the eldest of five children, and grew up on a dairy farm outside the city. She completed her nursing training in Cork and emigrated to Boston in 1962. In 1965 she married Tom Whitfield. For 31 years she worked the night shift at St Vincent's Hospital, most of them on the maternity ward, where her colleagues knew her as the calm one. In 1998 she and Tom moved to Portland, Oregon, to be near their grandchildren. She retired in 2003 and volunteered at her parish food pantry every Tuesday until the age of 82.
Peggy loved crosswords done in pen, the Cork hurling team, Sinatra on Sunday mornings, her roses, and a proper cup of tea. She was known for a quiet generosity and for a stubborn streak she was proud of: she learned to drive at 58 and drove herself to work every night afterwards. Her family will remember her for the words she said most often: nobody ever regretted being kind.
She is survived by her husband of 61 years, Tom; her children Sean (Maria), Aoife (David) and Niall; her grandchildren Ella, Jack, Rosa and Finn; and her sister Bridget Doyle of Cork. She was preceded in death by her parents, Patrick and Nora Doyle, and her brothers Michael and Denis.
A Funeral Mass will be celebrated on Saturday 5 September 2026 at 11 am at St Brigid's Catholic Church, Portland, with a reception to follow in the parish hall. Arrangements are by Kerrigan and Sons Funeral Home. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to Cedar Hill Hospice, whose nurses cared for Peggy at home.
60-word notice (60 words)
For social and community posts.
Margaret Anne Whitfield (née Doyle), Peggy to everyone, died peacefully, surrounded by family, on 28 August 2026 in Portland, Oregon, aged 85. Born in Cork, Ireland, she nursed at St Vincent's Hospital for 31 years and is survived by her husband Tom, three children and four grandchildren. Funeral Mass Saturday 5 September at 11 am, St Brigid's Catholic Church, Portland.
25-word death notice (25 words)
For newspapers that charge by the line.
WHITFIELD, Margaret Anne (née Doyle), 85, of Portland, died peacefully 28 August 2026. Funeral Mass Saturday 5 September, 11 am, St Brigid's Catholic Church, Portland.
Service words
Program blurb
Up to 60 words for the order of service.
Margaret Anne Whitfield (née Doyle), Peggy. 3 March 1941 to 28 August 2026. Born in Cork, Ireland. Nurse, wife to Tom for 61 years, mother of Sean, Aoife and Niall, grandmother of Ella, Jack, Rosa and Finn. Nobody ever regretted being kind.
Words of thanks
Read at the close of the service, by you or by whoever is speaking last.
On behalf of Tom, Sean, Aoife and Niall, and all of Peggy's family, thank you for being here this morning. Thank you to Father Brennan, for the weekly visits to her at home and for celebrating this Mass. Thank you to the nurses of Cedar Hill Hospice, who cared for her at home with the same steadiness she gave to other people's families for thirty-one years. Thank you to Kerrigan and Sons Funeral Home for their care with the arrangements. Thank you to the neighbours and friends who have looked after us this week. Everyone is welcome to join us in the parish hall after Mass. Peggy would have looked around this church today and said, that'll do.
Three suggested readings
Chosen for catholic from a library of public-domain readings. The text below comes from that library, not from the model. Readings still in copyright are listed by title so you can find them.
The souls of the righteous
Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-3. King James Version (Apocrypha), 1611. About 25 seconds to read aloud.
Why this fits: The customary first reading at a Catholic Funeral Mass. Its line that the departed are in peace matches the way the family has chosen to describe her passing, and it is short enough for a grandchild to read.
But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure is taken for misery, And their going from us to be utter destruction: but they are in peace.
Charity suffereth long
1 Corinthians 13:4-8, 13. King James Version, 1611. About 40 seconds to read aloud.
Why this fits: Peggy is remembered above all for how she loved: quietly, patiently, and without keeping score. This passage says that in words a Catholic congregation will recognise. Charity here means love; say so before reading it aloud.
Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
May the road rise to meet you
Traditional Irish blessing. Traditional. About 15 seconds to read aloud.
Why this fits: A short blessing from the country she was born in. It works as the last words of the service, or printed on the back of the program under her name.
May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back, May the sun shine warm upon your face, The rains fall soft upon your fields, And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Delivery guide
A note for you
Aoife, your eulogy runs about five minutes at a steady pace, so there is no need to hurry any part of it. The three stories are the heart of it, and each one ends with a pause; take that pause fully, look up, and let people sit with the moment before you go on. The Callahans and the first night with Ella are the two places you are most likely to be caught by feeling, and that is allowed. If it happens, stop, breathe, have a sip of water, and say, give me a moment. Nobody in that church will think less of you. You have named your brother Sean as your backup reader, so give him a full printed copy the night before, and if you need to hand it over, point to the line you reached. You are the middle child speaking for all three of you, and that is exactly the right person to be standing there. Your mother sat with frightened people through long nights for thirty-one years and never hurried one of them. You can take your time too.
Three ways out of a hard moment
There will be moments when the words stop. That is normal. There are three things you can do, and the room will understand any of them.
Pause. Stop talking, look down at the page, and breathe out slowly. A silence of five or ten seconds feels very long to you and perfectly natural to everyone else.
Water. Have a glass or a bottle within reach before you begin. A sip gives you a reason to stop and a few seconds to settle.
Say "give me a moment". Say it out loud. Nobody will think less of you. Most of them will be glad you said it, because they are feeling it too.
If you cannot finish
You told us My brother Sean could read it if you cannot finish. Give them a printed copy before the service and agree on a signal, such as a nod or a hand on the page. If you stop and cannot start again, they walk up, stand beside you, and read from where you left off. You can stay at the lectern or sit down; both are fine.
Having a plan makes it far less likely you will need it.
Printing
Print the eulogy at 16 point, on one side of the paper only, with the pages in order. Large type means you can find your place again after looking up, and single-sided pages mean you never turn a sheet over in front of the room. The Print button on this page does this for you; choose 16 pt.
Print the cue cards as well, one card per page. Some speakers read from the full text and keep the cards as a backup; others speak from the cards alone. Bring both.
Print two copies: one for you and one for your backup reader. Paper does not run out of battery.
Where to look
Look at the page more than you think you should. Reading is allowed. This is not a speech contest.
When you look up, look at the back wall or at one kind face in the middle of the room, not at the front row and not at the casket. Save the front row for the goodbye at the end, if you can, and only if you want to.
If you cry
Keep going. It is allowed. Crying while you speak about someone you loved is not a failure of the eulogy. It is the eulogy.
Pause, breathe out, take a sip of water, and pick up at the start of the sentence you were on. If your voice breaks on a word, say the word again. If you need to stop for a while, stop. The room will wait.
Timing for 5 minutes
Your eulogy is about 700 words, which is 5 minutes at a spoken pace of around 140 words a minute. Read aloud, it will feel slower than you expect. That is right. If your first timed read-through comes in under four minutes, you are rushing, and rushing is the most common thing that goes wrong on the day.
The pause marks are there to slow you down after each story. Honour them. A pause lets the room take in what you said.
Five minutes is the length most families are asked for. It leaves room for three stories without tiring the room.
Two days before
Two days before the service: read the eulogy out loud once, alone, with a timer. Do not perform it; just get through it. You will cry at the places where you will cry on the day, and it is far better to find those places now. Mark them in pencil.
The day before: read it out loud twice, once standing up. Give your backup reader their copy. Decide what you will hold in your hands. Put the printed pages, the cue cards and a bottle of water in the bag you are taking, and do not read it again that night.
The morning of the service: read it once, quietly, sitting down. Then put it away. You know it now.
Three thank-you notes
Three short notes for afterwards. Copy one, change a line or two, and it is done.
After flowers or a donation
Dear [Name],
Thank you for your gift to Cedar Hill Hospice in memory of our mother, Peggy. The nurses there cared for her at home with real kindness, and it means a great deal to us that her name will help them do the same for other families. She spent thirty-one years looking after other people's families on the night shift, so a gift like yours is exactly the kind of thing she would have understood. Thank you for thinking of her, and of us.
With love and gratitude,
The Whitfield Family
For those who attended or helped
Dear [Name],
Thank you for being with us at St Brigid's on Saturday to say goodbye to Peggy. Seeing so many familiar faces was a comfort to Dad and to all of us, and we know it was not a simple thing for everyone to be there. Mam had a way of turning up for people quietly and without being asked, and it meant a great deal to see so many people do the same for her. Thank you, too, for [the card / the meal / your kind words]. We have felt very well looked after.
With love,
The Whitfield Family
For care staff
To the nurses and staff of Cedar Hill Hospice,
On behalf of Tom, Sean, Aoife and Niall, thank you for the care you gave our mother, Peggy, at home. You will know better than most that she was a nurse herself, thirty-one years of nights on a maternity ward, and she noticed everything you did: the small kindnesses, the steadiness, the way you spoke to her and to Dad. She was able to die peacefully, surrounded by her family, and that is in no small part because of you. We will not forget it.
With gratitude,
The Whitfield Family
What we deliberately left out
What the text avoided
- The rift with Niall, as you asked. Niall appears only as her son and as one of the people you are speaking for.
- How ill Dad was last year, as you asked. Tom appears only as her husband of 61 years and as someone the family will look after.
- Any cause or circumstances of her death. The kit uses only the phrase you chose: peacefully, surrounded by family.
- The name of the hospital where she trained in Cork and the name of the parish food pantry, because you did not give them.
- Ages, surnames or any other detail about the grandchildren beyond the four first names you supplied.
- Anything not in your answers. No dates, places, achievements or quotations were added; the readings come from the built-in library.
Before the service: a self-check
- Read the eulogy aloud once with a timer. At a calm pace it should take about five minutes; if it runs long, the Callahans story is the easiest to trim.
- Check every name in the verify list against how the family spells it, especially the Callahans, Bridget Doyle, and the four grandchildren.
- Confirm the service time and the reception with Kerrigan and Sons before the obituary or the 25-word notice goes to any newspaper.
- Decide whether you are comfortable saying Mam aloud in church. If you would rather say Peggy or our mother, change it in the goodbye and the two-minute version.
- Print the cue cards at 16 point, one card per page, and give a full printed copy of the eulogy to Sean the night before.
- Show the obituary to Tom, Sean and Niall before it is published, so the survivor list and the preceded-in-death line are agreed by everyone.
Your own kit is written from your answers to a fifteen-minute interview, in about three minutes, for $39. Two rewrites and a 7-day refund are included.