Happy New Year

New Year's Eve is an interesting time. Personally, I can't wait for 2017 to arrive; 2016 feels a year of sadness and regret, of division, of goodbyes and separation. A year when being kind and open hearted was banished to the side lines, or so it felt at times. Lets hope that in 2017, compassion and kindness can take centre stage once again.

For those facing the start of a New Year following bereavement, perhaps some of life's optimism is also missing. The future now feels unknown; the only certainty is that life has changed forever. Generally speaking, life does get better. Not because we forget, but because we learn how better to carry the burden of grief. Lovely memories become woven into life, carried with you, always part of you, but increasingly balanced with the rest of life. May I wish everyone who stumbles on this blog a happy and healthy 2017.

Season's Greetings

This is a post for all those feeling especially lost right now; perhaps feeling a little lonely. For some, this will be the first Christmas following bereavement and as the big day approaches, the sense of loneliness can become intense. Even if we are fortunate enough to be surrounded by family and friends, no one can quite replace that special person. Even in a crowded room, life can feel very empty. 

Poem: My Funeral by Wendy Cope

The following poem was read out on the BBC's Woman's Hour programme last week...it made a lot of celebrants smile...

My Funeral by Wendy Cope

I hope I can trust you, friends, not to use our relationship

As an excuse for an unsolicited ego-trip.

I have seen enough of them at funerals and they make me cross.

At this one, though deceased, I aim to be the boss.

If you are asked to talk about me for five minutes, please do not go on for eight

There is a strict timetable at the crematorium and nobody wants to be late

If invited to read a poem, just read the bloody poem. If requested

To sing a song, just sing it, as suggested,

And don’t say anything. Though I will not be there,

Glancing pointedly at my watch and fixing the speaker with a malevolent stare,

Remember that this was how I always reacted

When I felt that anybody’s speech, sermon or poetry reading was becoming too protracted.

Yes, I was intolerant, and not always polite

And if there aren’t many people at my funeral, it will serve me right.

Quote of the Day: Remembering

"I think of my late son, Bo, more than every day. Losing a child is almost indescribable. People still ask me how I'm getting on. I say that the seas remain rough, but you learn to sail your boat through." Ruth Rogers, Chef. 
(Sunday Times food magazine, January 2016)

Bath Charity Spotlight: The WoodWorks Project

The point of this post is that often there is a collection at the end of a funeral service for a good cause, often one that has some relevance to the family or specifically to the person who has died. But sometimes, knowing which organisation to nominate can be a challenge. So I would just like to take this opportunity to highlight the work of a project in Bath - The WoodWorks Project. I can offer no better explanation for their work than the words found on the intro page of their website...

Atoms, Bill Bryson and End of Life

I am preparing a ceremony this week for a man who was passionate about science, about knowledge and about education; his mind was ceaselessly engaged in the wonders of the universe. In preparing the words for the ceremony, I came across this lovely quote from Bill Bryson, taken from "A short history of nearly everything". Bill Bryson wrote:

It is a slightly arresting notion that if you were to pick yourself apart with tweezers, one atom at a time, you would produce a mound of fine atomic dust, none of which had ever been alive but all of which had once been you.

Dementia and Alzheimers Poem

I just wanted to share the following poem - it's called, The Alzheimer's Poem. I have no expertise when it comes to Dementia and Alzheimers. It is an illness that seems to impact on so many of the families I help. As a society, we don't always talk about it and maybe in part that is because there is no battle to be fought, as there can be with other illnesses (although personally, I don't like the fighting / battling imagery that is sometimes associated with fighting cancer for example, but that's a blog for another day).

I know it scares me more than even cancer. I know there is no hierarchy of good and bad deaths - any passing from illness or sudden event will feel too soon and will hurt beyond words. But this is especially difficult to cope with. Its impact both on the person and on their family is profound.