I start by asking about the person who has died. What were they like to live with, work with or have as a friend? That tells me things a list of dates and achievements can’t.
Our conversation might jump between childhood, last Christmas and something they said thirty years ago. That’s fine. I’ll work out the order when I write.
I want to hear about the different sides of them, including things that don’t seem to go together. Someone could be reserved at work and the loudest person at home. The ceremony doesn’t have to flatten that out.
You decide what can be shared. I won’t assume that everything you tell me belongs in the service.
I write from our conversations, rather than assemble a ceremony from a template. I’ll choose the details that help people recognise them and find a structure that works when spoken aloud.
You can read the draft and tell me if I’ve missed something or a phrase doesn’t sound right. Checking the words is part of the process.
Someone who was irreverent or always making people laugh doesn’t need to become solemn in the telling. Humour can belong in their funeral too.
I’ll take the tone from what you tell me about them. There’s no expectation that the ceremony should make people laugh, or that anyone should put sadness aside.
I lead non-religious ceremonies, and I can include a prayer, hymn or spiritual reading if you’d like one. Sometimes those elements matter to the family even when the person who died wasn’t religious.
We can discuss what to include without requiring everyone to share the same beliefs.
Questions about the ceremonyCall, email or send a WhatsApp message. You don’t need to have everything organised.