30/05/2026
When Penny's dad Ron died, she did exactly what he'd asked.
Instead of arranging a funeral, she got online and booked a service-free cremation.
His body was collected from the hospital, and two weeks later, his ashes were returned to her in the post.
Ron didn't want a fuss. He didn't want money spent on a 'shiny coffin' and 'wilting flowers'. He didn't want people sitting in a stuffy room, making awkward conversation, after looking at photos of his backside (because his wife was the photo taker of the family, and he was always walking 10 steps ahead of her when they went on holidays).
His only wish was to make life easy for Penny.
...
When Penny came to see me to finalise Ron's estate, she'd had her dad's ashes in her pantry for six months, with absolutely no idea what to do with them because "no funeral" had been the entire extent of Ron's instructions.
For the first hour of our first appointment, Penny and I didn't talk about probate, or closing bank accounts, or selling Ron's house. We talked about how full of life Ron had always been: a joker, a music lover, quick with a yarn, a man with dozens of friends. We talked about how she hadn't gathered with any of her dad's friends (or hers) to share their sadness and their stories, to laugh, or play the music he loved. That there'd never been an opportunity for her to say out loud: you will be missed, you were important, you were special, you were loved. How his death hadn't been as hard as the complete silence after it. That she was pretty sure her dad wouldn't be too excited about his final resting place being tucked between a box of cask wine and a bottle of olive oil.
As we talked, Penny realised that, like so many families in a similar position, she had honoured her dad's wishes, but her own grief hadn't had a place to go.
Humans are ritual-loving creatures, and for millennia we've built rituals around death and grief. Rituals that are sometimes for the dead person, but more often than not are for the living.
When we remove those rituals, the cost and the fuss might disappear - but the grief doesn't; it simply gets carried differently. Heavier. Quieter. Longer.
...
Lately, I've started talking about funeral wishes more intentionally during estate planning meetings, not because I want to tell people what to do, but because I want to be sure when people like Ron come to me and say "I don't want a funeral" that's what they mean and not "I don't want this particular kind of funeral but I'm happy for the people who love me to do what they need to do".
I am helping people communicate what they really want their families to know, so when the time comes, they can respect those wishes AND balance their own needs as a living, grieving person.
You may not fancy a bells-and-whistles traditional funeral, but telling your family you don't want anything at all might not be as kind as you think.
Read more ๐https://bit.ly/4wYdv6S
I'd love you to share your experiences if you've been to a funeral that hits the sweet spot between traditional bells and whistles and, well, nothing.
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