Mum had been clear about having an eco-friendly, woodland burial. She had sent me a link about it decades before. Then Dee suggested Arnos Vale and we thought, “That’s just mum’s thing”. She had been a campaigner for public transport, and I thought, “Perfect. People can get there by bus”.
Dee booked it straight away. We had to wait for a post-mortem. If the team at Divine was concerned about the timescales they didn’t show it. Everything just clicked into place without us having to worry. We describe the approach as “gently efficient”. They had so much local knowledge, so many ideas on how to make the event as green as how Mum lived her life, we didn’t feel we were asking for anything silly. Mum wouldn’t have wanted imported flowers. They suggested people bring greenery from a hedgerow or garden. We had a shroud with African fabric on top. As they came in, people put their floral contributions on the bier. It ended up looking really natural and beautiful.
Mum had campaigned against uranium mining in Orkney. Ben, the videographer, found an excellent recording of “Farewell to Stromness” that was written about the mining and wove it into the ceremony.
Mostly, Mum would have been proud of her great-grandchildren. They are only small, but they stole the show, sitting with the shroud, holding her hand, when they weren’t dancing around her. We had rosemary from mum’s garden for the committal. My grand-daughter held the basket to hand it out. Only later, in the video, did we also see her throwing extra pieces into the grave when no one was looking. There was an informality about the whole day, nothing stuffy. That would have suited Mum. And it was relaxed and joyous for all of us as a result.
All the way through we were guided by what felt natural and fitting for Lou. Knowing the high standards she set with her artwork and her business, a lot hinged on the venue, especially when Lou had so many friends from different walks of life to consider.
When we walked into the place they recommended we thought, “This is it, this is right”. It couldn't have been more perfect. After that we all relaxed. In fact, all Divine Ceremony’s recommendations were excellent. Not just high calibre, that goes without saying but fitting. They understood and connected with Lou as a person. That’s what elevates what Divine Ceremony does and underpins the emotional support you feel through the process. You can trust that what they suggest is going to be just fine.
She took the lead in shaping the timings and how many people should speak, which would have been challenging because everybody wanted to say something. On the day she nailed it, we had so many comments about that. Dee’s recommendation was exactly right again.
They also recommended the videographer. Lou had a huge international friendship group who wouldn't be able to attend in person, so we wanted this done properly. The music was very important, and this was streamed in directly rather than through the venue’s speakers. The quality was excellent. On the day, the livestream connections peaked at 460, with possibly many more people watching, so we were glad it was in safe hands.
In fact, the whole ceremony went off without a hitch. Lou would have loved the many personal touches. Her attention to detail was off the scale and I think we delivered that for her. She had a wicker coffin into which had been woven some of her own fabric. It was beautiful. When guests arrived, they each brought a flower, and laid it on the coffin, 150 or so. It was very personal and touching. Talented friends, musicians, composers and singers, came together in a live performance that was incredible. People were moved by the whole thing. So many got in contact afterwards. Eighteen months on and I still visit houses where Lou’s Order of Service is on display. I think that is because the day meant so much to so many, and Lou remains close to their hearts.
Talking together with Dee beforehand made all the difference. It was so reassuring. Evert said what he wanted. She listened so well, explained everything so clearly. It took the fear away, and her listening helped Evert go forwards towards his death.
When he died at home, we simply followed his wishes. There was nothing to worry about. I felt he had gifted us this space. Washing and dressing him with Dee was joyful and peaceful. There is such beauty in a body that has been left. It was October. We decorated his bed with roses and autumn leaves.
People came to the house, sat with Evert, sang, chatted, shared meals. Children ran in and out. It was such a positive experience, especially for our grandchildren. They brought little gifts, a favourite stone he had “forgotten to take”. They shared a “last ride with Grandad”, in our camper van as we drove him to the church, one more trip in the vehicle he loved, that had taken us on so many journeys together.
More than 350 people came to his celebration of life at our local church – neighbours, friends, family, so many children. Teaching children was Evert’s life and through this last act, this funeral he gifted us, he was reaching out, still teaching, not just the children, but all of us.
Six months on and people still come to talk about it, what it meant to them. Now life feels vibrant and intense, and I feel an immense sense of gratitude.
Carter wanted to die at home and wished us to keep his body here for three days so that friends and family could visit and say their final farewells to him. This used to be a traditional practice (the ‘wake’ or vigil), during which people would sit with the deceased and accompany the soul’s journey as it gradually departs from the body.
Dee was very supportive, explaining what we would need to do to care for the body during that time. Carter lay in the room where he had died, surrounded by flowers and cards, in the coffin which his daughter had decorated beautifully according to his own design.
It was wonderfully peaceful to be able to sit with him and share memories of his life, and to play music and read poems.
We are very grateful to Dee, who made it possible for us to keep Carter at home, and also helped us in our wish to take him to the crematorium ourselves. It made such a difference to us to be able to celebrate Carter’s passing in our own way.
Chris and I had spoken before he got ill. He had always wanted celebration and colour. So no wearing black. There were favourite band t-shirts, Hawaiian shirts, fairy wings, tutus, and favourite festival clothes – that’s what he was wearing too.
The pictures I have are all colour, brightness and energy. Although there was time in the ceremony for reflection and tears, in most pictures I am captured smiling and laughing – so is my son. There were lots of kids there to support him.
Chris was in his work van, the place of honour in a convoy of performance cars. He had wanted this and it was wonderfully symbolic of his great love for his job. His work buddies had never seen anything like it. They just kept talking about what a valued person he was and the impact he had had on their lives. This was all about Chris. He had a brilliant life and this was a real celebration of it.
Mum was sent on her way in a cardboard coffin. When it was delivered, a neighbour asked if we were getting a new fridge. I said, “No, it’s a coffin for my mum!”
My sister and I decorated it with poems, flowers and collage, painting, sticking, gluing, talking about mum and our memories over a bottle of wine. She was an avid scrabble player so I put that on the design.
And then everyone spent time taking it in at the crematorium. It was such a positive experience.