JournalSeptember 3, 2026
Songs About Losing a Grandfather
A grandfather's music is often the easiest part of him to find again. Here are songs families turn to, grouped by the kind of man he was, and some gentle help choosing.
There is a particular kind of quiet that follows a grandfather's death. He may have been the one who taught you to drive, or fix a fence, or sit still in a boat for three hours without saying much. He may have been the one whose chair nobody sits in now. And when the service comes, someone has to choose the music.
Music is often the easiest part of him to find again. Most grandfathers left a trail of songs behind them — what played in the truck, what he hummed in the garage, what he asked for at every wedding. The list below is grouped by the kind of man he was, because that tends to be a better starting point than genre alone.
If he was a country music man
Country carries grandfathers well. It is unhurried, it is plainspoken, and it is comfortable talking about work, land, faith, and loss in the same breath.
"I Wish Grandpas Never Died" — Riley Green. Written almost exactly for this moment. It is direct enough that some families find it too much for the service itself and save it for the reception or the drive home.
"Grandpa (Tell Me 'Bout the Good Old Days)" — The Judds. Gentler, and a good fit if he was a storyteller.
"Go Rest High on That Mountain" — Vince Gill. Written after Gill lost his own brother. Probably the most-used memorial song in country music, and it earns it.
"Humble and Kind" — Tim McGraw. Less about death, more about the things he told you. Works beautifully as people are arriving.
"The Dance" — Garth Brooks. A song about being glad you had it at all.
"Simple Man" — Lynyrd Skynyrd. Not country exactly, but it belongs here. If he gave advice sparingly and it stuck, this one lands hard.
If he loved the standards
For grandfathers who came up on radio and records, the songs of his own young adulthood often say more than anything newer could.
"What a Wonderful World" — Louis Armstrong. Warm, and gentle enough that it does not undo the room.
"My Way" — Frank Sinatra. A common choice for a stubborn, self-made man. Read the lyrics through once with the family — some love it, some find it a little proud for a funeral.
"Unforgettable" — Nat King Cole. Especially if he and your grandmother had a song, and this was near it.
"Danny Boy." If there was Irish in the family, or if it was simply the one he always asked someone to sing.
"The Way You Look Tonight" — Fred Astaire or Sinatra. Good for a slideshow, where the wedding photos come up.
If faith was part of who he was
Hymns do something no other music does at a funeral: most of the room already knows the words, and singing together gives people something to do with their hands and their grief.
"Amazing Grace." Bagpipes if he was a veteran or a firefighter; a single voice if you want it quieter.
"How Great Thou Art." A good fit for a man who spent his life outdoors.
"It Is Well With My Soul." Steady, and comforting to congregations who know its history.
"I Can Only Imagine" — MercyMe. The most-requested contemporary Christian funeral song, and a natural closing piece.
"In the Garden." Old, plain, and often the one an older generation asks for by name.
Songs about carrying someone with you
These are less about goodbye and more about what stays. They often work best at the end of a service, or on the drive to the cemetery.
"In My Life" — The Beatles. Short, and about remembering places and people rather than mourning them.
"Keep Me in Your Heart" — Warren Zevon. Written by a man who knew he was dying. Quietly devastating and very kind.
"Forever Young" — Bob Dylan. Reads as a blessing from an older man to a younger one, which is often exactly the relationship you are grieving.
"I Will Remember You" — Sarah McLachlan. A reliable slideshow song.
"Ripple" — Grateful Dead. If he was the easygoing kind, this one has a lightness that suits a celebration of life.
"Photograph" — Ed Sheeran. Often chosen by grandchildren, and it fits a photo table well.
Instrumental music for the quieter moments
Not every part of a service needs words. Instrumental music is useful for the half hour before things begin, during a viewing, or while people are finding their seats.
"Ashokan Farewell" — Jay Ungar. A fiddle tune most people recognize without being able to name, which is often ideal.
"Clair de Lune" — Debussy.
"Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World" — Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. Barely a word in it that hurts.
Any recording he owned. If he played an instrument, or had a record he wore out, that is worth more than anything on a list.
How to choose when nothing feels right
A few things that tend to help when the list starts to blur:
Start with what he actually listened to, not what sounds funeral-appropriate. The song from his shop radio will mean more to the people in that room than a solemn piece he never heard.
Ask three people separately. His widow, one of his children, and one grandchild will each name a different song, and the overlap — or the surprise — usually points somewhere true.
Listen to it all the way through first. More than one family has been caught out by a third verse. This matters most with songs you know only from the chorus.
Two or three pieces is plenty. One as people gather, one in the middle, one at the end. A service does not need a playlist.
Do not overrule someone's tears. If a song is too hard for his wife of fifty years to sit through, it is the wrong song for the service, however right it is otherwise.
When the songs are close, but not quite him
Sometimes families go through every list and find nothing that fits. The songs are about grandfathers in general — not about the man who kept peppermints in his coat pocket, or called every dog "buddy," or drove four hours to a middle school band concert without complaining once.
That is the gap a custom memorial song is meant to fill. At Their Life Song, families share the stories, sayings, and small details that made him himself, and we write an original song from them — something to play at the service, and to keep long after. It is not a replacement for the songs he loved. Most families use both.
Whatever you choose, take your time with it. Whether it is a hymn he sang badly and gladly for sixty years, or something written just for him, the point is only that the room hears something true about him.