Personality filled Ceremonies BY SUE ANNE O’DONNELL ‘That was a great funeral, a real good send off. I didn’t personally know him but after the ceremony I feel like I knew him all my life, I have a real sense of the character he was. How the loss of their child was marked really touched me, so respectful.
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earing those stories really brought back memories of the friendship we shared. I love that Granny’s real attitude was brought to life, she may have been a cross old bag, but we loved her, and I think she would have loved today’s ceremony too’. These are some of the comments I have been lucky to hear following some of the funerals where I was the Celebrant. Now as I sit to write for this edition of Funeral Times, I realise my opening words could be construed as strange, yet it is what I do. I write and deliver ceremonies to tell the story of the person, their life, who they were, their habits, their impact on those around them. Sometimes the ceremony is for a person who was a challenge, grumpy at times, a character, in their unique way. Other times, the ceremony is deep, filled with sadness especially when the loss is that of a young life, or through a tragic accident or sudden unexpected death. And on occasion the ceremony is full of happy moments and stories that bring old forgotten memories to life. My uncle Anthony died many years ago, he was a real character, larger than life, and full of devilment, especially where my mother was concerned. To say Anthony loved my Mam, and she him is fair, even though polar opposite to him, for she was as religious as you could find, and he, well, apart from his wedding and funeral wasn’t inside the door of a church once he left home back in the 40’s. When there would be a family gathering, Anthony would make a bee line for my mother and in the blink of an eye be on one knee, head bent, hand out and be heard to say, ‘May I 64 | FuneralTimes
have your blessing pope Kathleen?’ Now anyone else would have been shunned by my Mam, such was her religious belief, but not Anthony, he would receive a head shake, and be told something on the lines of ‘get up you idiot before I have to slap you. You might be my elder brother but!’ and then they would laugh before hugging. He was loud and fun and the centre of the gathering, he taught each of his sons how to drink their first pint on their 18th birthday, though I am sure they had sampled this many times previously. Anthony always told his daughters, ‘when I die don’t wear black, go get your hair done, wear fabulous colours, have a pint in my honour and tell plenty of stories about me’. But of course, that was the early 80’s and you wore black or at least dark clothing, you were sombre, and the ceremony was the same as every funeral before and after, because that’s how it was. Sadly, Anthony’s stories and character, his antics, his clear devotion to his family, his love of practical jokes and his quirky relationship with his siblings, nor his requests, had any part in the ceremony. How I would love to be the celebrant for Anthony, paying tribute to his larger-than-life presence, shining light on his kindness, sharing how he stood by his family in dark times reminding them even when he himself felt fear, ‘we can get through this together love is all we need’ Imagine the gift of allowing his family to share their memories, weaving them into his life story in his celebration of life ceremony and following his wishes to wear colours, have our hair done and drink pints as we told stories (Ok as the celebrant I wouldn’t be having the Pint but you get the picture
