I’VE NEVER BEEN one for parties, perhaps a deep-seated fear that no one will turn up, so why would I want a party for my funeral?
I’m not ready to die in some way, but when I do, I want to die just like my dog.
He was with us for about 12 years and was loved by everyone. He was a perfect companion who loved his walks and adored to be cuddled. He had a great life. He was ill for a very short time, but when he couldn’t even lift his tail for his signature wag, we knew it was time.
My daughter flew up the night before, and we hugged him and talked with him for hours. We wrapped him in his favourite blanket and carried him to the vet. The vet was wonderful; she’d known him at his very best and loved him, too. He died quickly and painlessly, cuddled to the end by the people he loved. We cried buckets, but all agreed we wished humans could pass the same way: when they choose, quickly and painlessly and surrounded by people they loved.
A few weeks later, we received his ashes. Over the next few weeks, we visited his favourite places and gradually scattered his ashes, and each time, we remembered him, his joy and the joy he brought us. That’s how I want to go.
I dislike funerals not just because they seem such an invasion of someone’s grief but because I feel guilty about enjoying catching up with people I haven’t seen for a long time.
My friend died of cancer very young, but I had time to plan her funeral. She managed to find a local plot and prepared everything, but her primary request was that her funeral celebrate her life and everyone wear something purple. It was a very bitter-sweet event.
Before her death, my mother had Alzheimer’s, and I know if she knew how she would be now, she would have chosen to end her life when she was still a vibrant, unique powerhouse. But making that decision is almost impossible as we’ve always got hope that our outcome will be different.
I’ve recently been visiting Graveyards and Cemeteries in the UK and have seen many hundreds around the World. Many are beautiful and peaceful, and the dead have some of the best views in the world. But they can also be places of neglect, and I don’t want to be tied to one place.
I am considering becoming a Funeral Celebrant like my friend Debbie. She talks to or visits bereaved families and asks them about their loved ones. She guides them in the options available, from a full religious church service to a private family cremation or whatever the family wants. She does this with incredible compassion and an understanding that many will only arrange one such event during one of the most stressful moments of their lives.
I’ve considered burial in a Graveyard like my Grandparents, in a tiny, beautiful old church where all you can hear is birdsong. I’ve considered burial in a forest in a wicker coffin where you degrade quickly and feed the forest.
But I’ve decided I want a Direct Cremation where you’re taken from your home or hospital and cremated and then returned to your loved ones to scatter where you had the most joy. Your ashes will be taken by the wind or the sea, become part of the sand, and you will be remembered.
