Jed Prins thinks unique funerals should be accessible by all, Michael Payne says singing is funeral medicine, and Gabriella Falk recalls the celebration of her husband’s life
Your article on funerals was interesting; the more we’re exposed to all the options available at death, the better (Ditch the hearse, bring the kids, have a picnic: an alternative undertaker’s tips for a better funeral, 19 October). But it paints a binary picture. I’m a funeral celebrant. My first was at Sharpham Meadow natural burial ground, mentioned in the piece. It was slightly chaotic, with songs, spontaneous tributes and a faulty portable speaker. Afterwards, a mourner pressed an unlit fag into the grave’s earth and poured cider on it.
For my second, a shy, heartbroken woman told me very little about her mum, from whom she’d never spent a day apart. The family was sparse, the crematorium nearly empty. But there was a story: her mum grew up in Spain, was made homeless by the fascists in the civil war, had been thrown out of church by a priest for having no shoes, so hated organised religion but had a strong faith (which I was expected to – and did – acknowledge).
