Saddest Speeches Novels & Stories

Sabastian Green spoke, "Thank you everyone for coming. I have only done this for my late wife Adriana Black. She was really a very beautiful woman." He looked above the sky and said, "Adriana, I want to tell you that I am really sorry. I wasn't with you when you needed me the most. Now you have gone forever and won't come. I understand that you left me so that you could make me feel the same way as you were suffering. Yes, I am also suffering. Can't wait to meet you!" A tear dropped from the corner of his eyes. It wasn't looking fake, it was real.

Lynda said in a broken voice. "I forgive you too, Jonah, for all the pain you have caused us...I just hope your soul can find peace," and as he finished the words, he let out a sigh and exhaled. Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies in us while we live. Norman Cousins.

He spoke with a deep sense of regret and sadness in his voice. “I am truly sorry,” he said, his words carrying the weight of his remorse. “I failed to consider your perspective, and I deeply regret that.”

I was drowning in despair and there was no one to help me. On the day of the funeral, when I was called to give a speech, I almost refused because Dennis who prepared the speech wrote nothing but lies in the speech. "George Aderemi was a great father and I must confess that I'll miss him and the legacy he left behind." I forced myself to spit out the huge lie. "My uncle was also a great man and he didn't deserve to die in such a cruel way," I added that one on my own. Uncle Benjamin didn't deserve to die such terrible death. "We'll miss them and I know they are both in a better place." I couldn't finish the rest of the speech as I was fighting back my tears. "Thank you," I ended the speech

Daniel POV: Today is a gloomy day and it's pouring heavily. We have all these made men standing in the rain in their black suits and women in their black dresses getting rained on to mourn our lost men and most importantly my best friend The priest has said his general speech about losing loved one's and now his calling me up to talk. Walking up toward the priest I realize that I haven't even prepared a speech. Everyone looks at me as I walk down the line of people. I should have stood in the front with the other friends and family but I just can't watch Xavier being lowered into the ground in a damn box.

“ Keep your eyes open, don't close them” But the words were already fleeting. “She would be missed” a familiar heartwrenching voice resounded. My husband…giving the heartwrenching speech I knew had been memorised already.

I carefully selected the faces I wanted to see there, so they would know the right questions to ask. “Miss Adeline, what is your final farewell gift to your beloved sister?” I stopped, my insides giddy as I had planned this. However, my eyes told otherwise. Glossy eyes, the reporters could see their reflection in them. Tears I was struggling to hold in. “I deeply regret that my family failed to pay more attention to Davina before she died.” I began my practiced speech, carried with a voice that penetrated minds. “This is a cry, to urge families to reach out to their loved ones. To take mental health seriously and refuse to let those suffering be even though they push people away.”

The audience responds with enthusiastic clapping, eager to hear what she has to say. “Good afternoon, my fellow citizens, I stand before you today as a beacon of resilience and hope for our community. Throughout my life, I have encountered significant personal challenges, including the heartbreaking loss of my stepbrother and father, experiences that have taught me the profound depths of loneliness and grief. Yet, amid these trials, I have been immensely grateful for the unwavering support and love of my partner, Devon, who has been my anchor during the stormiest of times. Now, as a proud mother, I have discovered an even greater purpose: to advocate for the future of our children and our ci

Some just planted quiet, no words for feels. It gutted. Seeing loved ones wrap final. Seeing hits of our calls. Seeing win's bill real and close and crushing. When last flame lit, all twelve burning, Sophia moved up. Had words ready. I'd jotted 'em. She drilled what to say. But now, front of hundreds grieving, ditched notes. Spoke real instead.

Of course, I let them carry out their shit blindly. My men walked behind me in a quiet procession, one holding the urn which contained the ash of Myles’ leftover carcass, another the hamper packed with red wine—her favorite—and two glasses. A third carried the foldable chair I insisted on bringing because my knees tend to give out when standing too long. It's gonna be a long speech with my late wife. My late wife always said grief ages a man faster than time ever will. She wasn’t wrong. The air was still. Still like a held breath. Still like the moment before a bullet leaves the chamber.