My younger brother had a humanist service.
Kaz (his wife) wrote and delivered the euology which was one of the bravest things I have seen.
Trev was a bit of a sports nut and over the next year Kaz set about disposing of his ashes at Stamford Bridge, Twickenham, Wembley, Lords, enjoying a day out with his regular match going mates at each venue.
Yeah, I’ve asked for 1/3 of my ashes to be interred in N’s Family plot (family agreed). 1/3 in my Family Wall (coincidentally, at the same cemetery). And the remaining 1/3 to be cast amongst the Cabernet Sauvignon vines in my favourite vineyard in the Coonawarra*.
*Originally planned to be thrown into the lake between tee and green of Hole 7 of my favourite golf course. The course is now a housing development
I’ve been to far too many funerals in the last decade - the first of them was for a very dear old friend and it was railroaded by his niece who made it mostly about Godshit and 1% about him - and that 1% I didn’t recognise at-all. He was a lifelong atheist who rejected the Catholicism his father/school/priests had tried so very hard to beat into him, but the Jesuit vultures had him in the end…
Of the dozen or so funerals I’ve been to since 2017, no other has been anything but humanist, in the broad sense of ‘no gods’.
Back in 2017 I got up and delivered a eulogy for my friend Neal who’d died aged 40 of glioblastoma. This came after a working lifetime of avoiding ever giving a public speech of any kind, despite many years in academia (not a good career move…). But nobody else would get-up and talk about Neal, who was truly one of life’s rough diamonds, and who was there for me when life once-again hoiked-up a furball of reality with me in the middle of it, he lit up a dark time without even knowing he was doing it, because he was a light-bringer. Plenty there knew it, but people needed to hear it said. I was awful, but it wasn’t about me.
Since then, I’m up to double figures with eulogies, because no-one ever wants to do it - we’re British and death is actually preferred to crying in public… I don’t ever want to do it either, but I’m quite a bit used to it now, tho’ I wish I wasn’t - it’s been a difficult few years. I don’t try very hard to suppresses my emotions because funerals are where you’re fucking well supposed to cry.
Composing and delivering the eulogy for my father was for me a necessary stepping off point for grieving. Up until I finished that speech I was consumed with “sorting shit out” post-mortem.
I have always related more to Humanist funerals (as was my Dad’s) because I am not religious.
I recently went to the funeral of my cousin’s wife who was raised among missionaries in West Wales. She was still a believer at the end, but insisted her funeral service should “not be about God”. Her husband and son managed this simple request and both spoke eloquently. Her brother could not resist the chance to deliver a sermon.
Funerals are for the survivors. When it comes to mine I’ll be happy for my lot to run the event and to play music of whatever kind they want. By that stage I’ll exist only in their memories.
I might leave some suggestions in case they feel they need any ‘help’, but I’ll make it as clear as I can that their choices trump mine.
When helping my mum with my dad’s funeral, she seemed quite taken with the idea of a bagpipe player. I just said that was a totally ludicrous idea, so let’s do it. We did, and it was great.
Fortunately, we were in the car so couldn’t really hear them. Win.
It’s not an easy time for the survivors, but honestly having something to think about is no bad thing. The corpse don’t care.
Been thinking about mine for a while, sadly Viking isn’t doable but being converted into a big firework and shot out over Rudyard reservoir at night looks promising
I keep telling Marie I want a Zoroastrian sky funeral - basically you put the body on a tower and let the birds devour it. She seems to think the roof of our shed might not be appropriate.