Death is part of the cycle of life, but do funerals have to follow the traditional format of sorrow, sobriety and orthodoxy? Can there ever be a place to party and celebrate the life of the dearly departed?
I have never been closer to my death than I am today. That’s not an opinion – simply counting. It’s an event we all have in common, and as much as I may desire to put the inevitable off for as long as I can, the sage words of writer Dick Sharples, which appeared in his obituary in The Scotsman, nonetheless resonate with growing intensity: “Death is just Nature’s way of telling you to slow down.”
Some may argue that my fascination with the end of my days is morbid, yet I would counter this with a huge dollop of pragmatism and care for those who will have to navigate my final curtain call, assuming there will be a group of interested onlookers. This practicality is born out of my heritage, dominated by my parents’ matter of fact approach to issues of death, religion and being untroublesome.
Some may choose to reject traditional funerals
Indeed, when my mother entered end of life care, her stoicism reached new levels of Olympian gold as she instructed my sister and me on her decision not to have a funeral. Underneath this guise of the enduring, but perhaps questionable, narrative of the British stiff upper lip hid, I suspect, her genuine fear of death. The degenerative nature of her swift decline from the strong, independent person she identified with was dramatic and heart wrenching and I met her eventual death with immediate relief. I do however miss her like crazy, and I’m constantly reminded of the hole she has left in my life when I consider the simple things such as sending her a photograph via WhatsApp and shooting the breeze over topical events.
Given the brief sketch of my upbringing, I guess it isn’t much of a surprise that I am a committed agnostic and having attended many funerals, I remain unconvinced by the need to include religion within the ritual and customs of death.
Funerals invoke happy memories but the service is solemn
In all honesty, I often feel that religious conviction gets in the way of what should be a personal, intimate moment. I can only gauge my perception on the funerals I have attended in the United Kingdom; the regular requirement to wear black and appear solemn do not reflect my connection with the deceased. My emotional ties are captured by feelings of joy, love, laughter and happy memories of the person no longer a physical part of my life. I can count on the fingers of one hand the funerals I have attended where I felt a degree of cheerfulness that truly represented the dead person in life.
Nevertheless, my mum’s decision left a void and simply allowing her to slip away without some form of event seemed abhorrent. Then another, unrelated death brought into focus an alternative.
Funeral alternatives: a celebration of life
Jackie, a former police colleague, had died far too young. The bastard that is cancer had claimed another victim but she had mandated that no one should be required to mourn her so her family announced a “celebration of life”. As I entered the venue, I felt an immediate warmth and affection as a large screen displayed photographs of my dear friend who I had known since the mid-1980s. On a continual loop, they captured the vibrant life that had touched us all.
Her incredibly brave husband, Malcolm, choreographed the proceedings which reflected a deep reverence (without religion), accompanied by bundles of joyous, funny, and poignant moments resting upon a wonderful collection of memories, music and personal tributes that combined to accurately portray her spirit. I managed to keep it together until I read out the last line of my celebratory statement; whichever way you cut it, losing a loved one hurts.
Researching this phenomenon, I was surprised to discover that as far back as the 1800s, it was customary to hold a celebratory feast after a burial, especially in rural communities, focussing on storytelling, food and shared memories of the deceased. However, it wasn’t until the 2000s that the term ‘celebration of life‘ gained traction in the UK, influenced by American trends and a growing desire to focus on the legacy of the departed, rather than sorrow. Furthermore, the rise of direct cremation (chosen by my mum), without a formal service has opened the way for more relaxed settings like pubs, gardens, or community halls.
A loving farewell
My mum’s celebration will take place at the local golf club, a par four and a bit away from her home and beloved garden. I think she would have approved, especially as the prizes on offer for the successful quiz teams (she had an honorary doctorate in general knowledge) are a specially selected collection of her bric-a-brac and buddhas of all shapes and sizes.
And this is my desire: a farewell that better reflects me and my mum, warts and all. But more importantly, I’d like those in attendance to have fun, especially at my expense, and focus on their collective love for me, each other and, according to guru Grandma (my mum), the ultimate purpose of life – to create memories.
Cheers!
