When someone dies, language can feel both too small and too heavy. People hand you sympathy cards with perfect sentences, and somehow your own mouth can’t find a single one that fits. And yet, in the quiet moments—when you’re folding a program, choosing a photo, or standing in front of a shelf where their coffee mug still sits—you may feel a tug to say something that’s yours. Not polished. Not “writerly.” Just true.
If you’re thinking about writing a short poem or a simple song for a memorial, you don’t need talent the way people usually mean it. You need attention. A willingness to notice the honest details: the way they laughed, the phrases they repeated, the tiny rituals that made them them. In grief, those details matter because they’re how love remembers.
And sometimes, writing shows up right alongside the other practical decisions families face—especially when cremation is part of the plan. In the U.S., cremation is now the more common choice, with the U.S. cremation rate projected at 63.4% in 2025, according to the National Funeral Directors Association. The Cremation Association of North America reports a U.S. cremation rate of 61.8% in 2024 in its 2025 statistics preview. CANA’s 2025 statistics preview shows how steadily those numbers have risen over time. With cremation’s growth has come a wider range of personal memorial choices—words included.
Start smaller than you think you should
Most people get stuck because they believe they need a “big” message: a summary of a life, a thesis about love, a flawless farewell. But the truest lines often begin as something almost embarrassingly simple: an image, a sound, a single memory you can hold in your hand. If you can name one concrete thing, you already have a starting point.
Try this: write one sentence that begins with “I remember…” and do not explain it. Don’t add meaning. Just describe what happened. The brain wants to jump to “what it all means,” but grief writing works better when you stay with what you saw and felt.
For example: “I remember the way you stood at the sink, humming when you didn’t realize anyone was listening.” That one sentence can become a poem. Or it can become the first lyric of a song. You can build from there by asking, “What else is in that scene?”
Beginner-friendly shapes that don’t feel like ‘poetry’
You don’t have to invent a form from scratch. A simple structure is a relief when you’re tired and grieving. Think of it as a container—like choosing a vessel for cremated remains. In the same way that families compare cremation urns by material, size, and where the urn will live, you can choose a writing “container” that fits where your words need to go.
The three-part “then / now / always”
This is one of the easiest shapes to write because it follows the way grief actually moves.
- Then: a memory from before the death
- Now: what your life feels like without them
- Always: what remains true and carried forward
Each part can be just two or three lines. If you’re writing lyrics, each part can be a verse, and “always” can become your chorus.
The “you were / you are” bridge
This one is especially helpful when you’re writing for a service and you want to honor both the reality of death and the ongoing bond.
- Write five lines that start with “You were…” (their habits, their values, their small kindnesses).
- Write five lines that start with “You are…” (how they live in you now—what you still hear, still do, still carry).
If you can write ten plain sentences, you can write this poem. Later, you can cut it down to the strongest six lines.
The “list of ordinary holy things”
Grief often makes the ordinary feel sacred. This form is simply a series of images. No rhymes required.
- Choose a place: kitchen, garden, garage, porch, favorite walking route.
- List ten objects or moments from that place.
- Circle two that make your chest tighten, and write three lines about each.
Those circled images are the heart of your piece.
Prompts that work even on the hardest days
If you’re staring at a blank page, use prompts that point your mind toward specifics instead of “being profound.” Pick one prompt and give yourself five minutes. Stop when the timer ends. You can come back later.
- Write about a sound you associate with them (keys, laugh, footsteps, the way they said your name).
- Write about what they taught you without trying (how they apologized, how they cooked, how they showed up).
- Write about a small habit you inherited from them.
- Write about an apology you still want to say—or gratitude you didn’t finish expressing.
- Write about a place that feels different now, and what exactly changed.
- Write about what you hope they knew, even if you never said it.
- Write a “weather report” of grief today: what’s the temperature, the sky, the wind?
- Write a line that begins, “If love could do one more thing, it would…”
As you write, you’ll notice something gentle: the page doesn’t demand that you be okay. It only asks you to be honest.
How to turn a memory into a lyric
Songwriting can feel intimidating because it sounds technical. But the simplest memorial songs are built from repeating truth, not complicated chords. If you’re not a musician, you can still write lyrics that someone else can set to music, or you can read them as a poem.
Start with one “anchor line” you can repeat. The anchor line becomes the chorus—something like “I carry you into morning,” or “You are still here in the small things.” Then write two short verses that answer the anchor line with details. Verses are the story; the chorus is the meaning you return to when you can’t bear the story anymore.
If you do want to sing it yourself, keep the melody borrowed and familiar. Many people quietly adapt a tune they already know (a lullaby, a simple hymn) and place their own words on top. The goal is not performance. The goal is presence.
When you’re also making funeral decisions
Writing often arrives in the middle of funeral planning, when the family is deciding not only what to say at a service, but what happens after the cremation itself—especially the tender question of what to do with ashes. That’s where words and practical choices meet.
If you’re choosing a central memorial for home, many families begin by browsing cremation urns for ashes and noticing what feels steady: wood that looks warm in a living room, ceramic that feels handmade, metal that feels protective and enduring. If you’re sharing ashes among siblings or across households, small cremation urns can provide a substantial “personal” memorial without needing a full-size vessel. And if you want several family members to each have a small portion, keepsake urns are designed specifically for that kind of sharing—one love, held in more than one place.
This is where your writing can become part of the memorial itself. A single line from your poem can be used as an inscription, a printed card, or a quiet note tucked beneath the urn. Sometimes the most healing words are the ones you don’t have to read aloud. They can live privately at home.
If you’re considering the emotional side of keeping ashes at home, Funeral.com’s Journal guide on keeping ashes at home walks through both the practical and personal questions that come up—where to place an urn, how to think about visitors, and how to create a setup that feels respectful rather than unsettling.
Pet loss: when the poem is for a companion, too
Many families are surprised by how deep pet grief goes—until it’s their turn. The love is daily, wordless, constant. And when it’s gone, the house feels wrong. Writing can be a way to honor that bond without defending it to anyone.
If you’re choosing pet urns, it can help to start with the simplest, most human question: “Where will this live?” Some people want a photo-box on a shelf. Some want something sculptural and comforting to look at. Funeral.com’s pet urns for ashes collection includes a wide range of styles, from classic vessels to memorial boxes. For families who want something that captures personality in a tangible way, pet figurine cremation urns can feel like a gentle likeness—especially when the pose resembles how your dog or cat rested at home. And when multiple people loved the same pet, pet keepsake cremation urns offer a way to share a small portion with adult children, partners, or a sibling who lived far away.
If you want guidance while you decide, Funeral.com’s Journal guide to pet urns for ashes explains sizing, materials, and personalization in a calm, practical way—useful when grief makes even simple shopping feel impossible.
Cremation jewelry and “wearable” lines of love
Some people want remembrance that moves with them. A shelf can feel too far away on hard days. That’s where cremation jewelry can fit into the picture—not as a replacement for an urn, but as a small, portable keepsake. The Cremation Association of North America notes that cremation can support many kinds of memorialization, including keepsake jewelry and other shared tributes.
If you’re exploring options, you can browse cremation jewelry as a category, or narrow specifically to cremation necklaces if you know you want something worn close to the heart. If you’re unsure how these pieces are filled and sealed, Funeral.com’s Journal guide cremation jewelry 101 explains the process in plain language.
Here’s a writing idea that pairs beautifully with jewelry: write a six-word line that captures who they were to you. Not their whole life. Just their relationship to you. “My steady place when storms arrived.” “The laugh that made rooms lighter.” That tiny line can become your chorus, your poem’s final sentence, or the private mantra you touch when you hold the pendant.
Water burial and the language of letting go
For some families, the right goodbye involves movement—wind, tide, river current—something that feels like returning. If you’re planning a water burial, it can help to know that biodegradable water urns are designed to float briefly or sink more quickly depending on the model and conditions. Funeral.com’s Journal guide on water burial explains how different urns behave and how families plan the timing of words, music, and release.
If you’re writing something to read on the water, let the setting carry the weight. Use short lines with space between them. Let the natural pauses do what rhyme isn’t required to do. Sometimes the gentlest memorial writing sounds like breathing.
Cost questions that affect everything (and how to keep your writing separate from the bill)
It’s hard to write a poem when your mind is also doing math. Families often ask how much does cremation cost while they’re still in shock, and the answer can vary widely depending on location, services, and add-ons. Funeral.com’s Journal guide on how much does cremation cost breaks down common fees and choices in a way that helps you compare options without feeling tricked by fine print.
One gentle suggestion: keep your writing in a separate notebook or document from your planning notes. Grief needs at least one space that isn’t transactional. Your poem is not a line item. It’s a way of staying connected.
Editing without losing the truth
Once you have a rough draft, editing is mostly subtraction. You’re looking for the lines that feel alive—where your throat tightens, where your chest warms, where you think, “Yes. That’s it.” Keep those lines. Cut the rest.
If you’re sharing the poem at a service, aim for one minute. That’s usually long enough to feel meaningful and short enough to feel safe. If you’re writing lyrics for a song, aim for a chorus that can be repeated without changing. Repetition is comforting in grief; it gives people something to hold on to.
And if you freeze the moment you imagine reading it out loud, remember this: you can write it even if you never share it. Writing is not a promise to perform. It’s a form of care.
