I have not, but my daughter wrote and gave my son's eulogy. It was a process. She started out writing of how we all failed him and then got an epiphany and wrote a dear sweet funny tribute to him that was totally appropriate for him and how he was. On the other hand, a woman in my neighborhood died of ALS last spring. It was a long and tortured ending for her. I went over to help out a couple of times. Her husband wrote and gave her eulogy that was three (typewritten! single space!!!) pages long that went into excruciating detail of every single thing he did for her, including changing diapers. And this was a very quiet dignified woman. We all squirmed in our pews and I whispered to my friend/neighbor as we were walking out... 'somebody should have checked his work!' lol It was dreadful so Don't Do That!

My husband wrote and gave his dad's eulogy. He also gave his grandmothers but I think he winged that one, because he is very good unscripted. But he wrote his dad's and wouldn't even let me look at it beforehand. He was fully absorbed. I am tearing up thinking about him in those days. His only regret was he spoke too quickly, but he was emotional.

Afterwards, his boss came up to him and said he understood him better, that he learned a lot through hearing about his dad. This was because his eulogy had a lot to do with what he'd been taught - life lessons, practical things, how to be strong, how to do what is right, and not care what anyone else thinks (he said "never take shit from anyone." That's how his dad talked, lots of cursing). It was RAW. And everyone who knew his dad very much appreciated the eulogy; we'd lost a huge, forceful, powerful personality.

I have not, but I recall at my grandfather’s funeral, my father quoting a fishing show he watched as a kid, where the creator had somewhere in the credits: “for my father, who always had time to take me fishing”.

I was thinking about this the other day because my parents are getting on. The thing is, I don't know who my parents are, I really don't. They are from a generation whereby their true identities were never nurtured and thus they didn't really develop. I don't have a traditional paternal or maternal relationship with either of them, in fact I've been more of an emotional parent to them. Anything I wrote would involve sharing these rather uncomfortable truths or making up some stuff people expect to hear. Other people outside the family seem to know them better in the sense of how they present themselves, and might say alot about x, y, z. I decided in the end I wouldn't attempt it. 

I did it for my mom. It was a goodbye to her, about how my brother and I wouldn't be the people who we are if it wasn't for her. It was about the things she was passionate about, what she loved. But at the funeral, my brother didn't allow me to give it, so I took those papers and put them on her coffin and buried her with them.