On Becoming a Celebrant - Part 2

Here, I reflect on some key ceremonies from my own life, none of which were personalised in the way I now offer, as a celebrant. Personalising ceremonies is the reason I became a celebrant, so it is interesting to not yet have experienced this for myself. This will change in future - in fact, I am planning for a personalised funeral.

As a young child in rural Ireland, I attended many funerals, each one preceded by a wake. Wakes are culturally significant events when we bring our dead loved ones home, remove the coffin lid and sit with them until the day of the funeral. Friends, relatives and neighbours come from near and far to share in this experience, and trays of sandwiches are passed around, along with cups of tea. Tears and laughter are often in equal measure and stories are told and retold.

One of my first memories is from the wake of a neighbour in my street. I remember watching other people for cues, so I would know how behave. I made sure sure to touch my neighbour’s hand before leaving, just like my granny and other people did. Even though Irish wakes can be tiring for close relatives, I still find the togetherness of them quite beautiful.

I first married while living in Namibia. As happy as I was during the wedding ceremony, I was aware that there was no point at which I could speak freely during official proceedings. I should have liked to then and during my second wedding ceremony. On both occasions it was simply not allowed, so I made sure I shared my happy reflections outside of the ceremony.

When my first husband died, I had the opportunity to speak at his memorial service. I found talking about him and sharing memories such an important part of the grieving process. Therefore, when my father died in Ireland many years later, it was very challenging for me to be discouraged from speaking at his service by the religious celebrant. Veering from the convention of the service was so frowned upon, I was only given permission to speak because of my own persistence. Even then, I was instructed by the religious celebrant to speak after he left to prepare for the burial. I don’t know whether this approach was an established rule or an individual preference, but I do know it will never make sense to me. Speaking that day was very important, though the memory of it is always accompanied with the feeling of somebody else’s disapproval.

So, why do I share these recollections? Well, I suppose I want to inform what underpins my values when it comes to ceremonies. I want to take the best of what I experienced from my own culture - a sense of togetherness - and combine it with the best a community celebrant can do, which is is to build a personalised ceremony, around the person / people being honoured.

Memories of ceremonies linger for a long time, for good or for bad. I want people to want to remember the ceremony they had with me. I want to them to recall feeling included, understood, and encouraged to take part. My hope is that the memory of the ceremony to be comforting. Finding comfort can challenging in some settings, such as in crematoria with strict twenty five minute time limits. This limitation is one of the main reasons why I want to promote choice in funerals, not just in how the ceremony is conducted, but where.

Let’s not be afraid to do things differently if we know it will help people get the ceremony they need.