Eulogy Examples for a Mother

My mother measured flour by eye and people by how they treated waiters. She was right about both, every time. When I was nine, I broke her blue mixing bowl — the one from her own mother — and hid the pieces in the garden. She found them, of course. She sat me down, and I waited for the storm. Instead she said: "Things break. People matter. Help me find the glue." We glued it badly, and she used that lopsided bowl for twenty more years, on purpose, I think, so I would see it every Sunday and know I was more important than anything she owned. That was her whole philosophy, standing in one chipped bowl. People before things. Supper before sulking. Family before everything. She raised three of us on a nurse's shifts and never once made it feel like sacrifice — though we know now that it was, every day, for years. She came to every netball match, including the ones where I never left the bench. When I asked her why, she said, "I'm not here for the netball." Mom, we broke this week. All of us, into pieces, like that bowl. But you taught us exactly what to do: find each other, hold the pieces together, and keep using the thing you mended — on purpose — so everyone can see the cracks and know they were loved anyway. Thank you for everything, Mom. Rest now. We'll take it from here.