Over the past decade or so the idea of being a celebrant has floated into my head on quite a few occasions. I didn’t really know how it worked but thought it might be a good fit for me.
For example, around 18 months ago I went to a friend’s funeral. She had died of an aggressive cancer – in her 50s and within a few weeks of diagnosis. It really struck me how the celebrant was able to find the essence of my friend, and made me feel that we were, as a group, celebrating and appreciating her. I knew her through a knitting group that I’d started and was there with some friends from that group, even though we’d moved on and the group didn’t exist anymore.
Photos were displayed along with music, showing her in knitted sweaters and cardigans that we had seen her making, progressing week to week. Her coffin was decorated with teddy bears that she had made, and the service was ended with a recording of her very distinctive laughter. It wasn’t like any funeral that I’d been to before, which had been mainly held in churches or been officiated by family members. I went away appreciating the gift that the celebrant had been able to give the mourners; of real acknowledgement of my friend, beyond the bare facts of her life.
Within just over a year I’d been to another three funerals – one a natural burial; the other two cremations. I felt cheated by one celebrant who didn’t seem to ‘get’ the amazing person who had died. For example, a large part of the eulogy was made up of reading out letters from people who had written to the celebrant after being asked to do so by email. The letters were heartfelt – that wasn’t the problem – but there didn’t seem to be any attempt to measure who the important people in her life had been. It meant that people who were close or who were too upset to write were missed from the ceremony altogether. I wasn’t the only person who noticed that her husband (who would have been supremely uncooperative, to be fair!) was only mentioned once, maybe twice. They were married for over 40 years.
The difference in how I felt about these ceremonies made me more and more convinced that maybe I needed to do this. I knew that I could talk to people about death. I knew that I could get to know people quickly – partly as a result of growing up in the RAF and moving around a lot. I knew that I could listen, and that seems to me to be the most important part. I knew that I could speak in front of groups of people, and that I could write coherently. My children are now all adults. I finally get time to be me, to focus on what I want to do with my life. So after a lot of research and consideration, I knew that the pull I was feeling towards celebrancy couldn’t be ignored.
Funerals were really important to my decision. But I didn’t want to do only funerals. I want to be in on the joy of weddings, commitment ceremonies, namings, new homes, adoptions, renewal of vows… you name it. I want to help people make such strong memories that they don’t just remember the ceremonies once a year when they pop up on Facebook! I want to help people find their way to celebrate and commemorate rites of passage in their lives. Who wouldn’t want that?
Are there any thresholds, life changes or occasions that you want to mark with a special celebration? Why not get in touch – to see if you think I can be the person to help you to make lifelong memories.