File #6 - the Quiet Ceremony
Those left behind followed their loved one’s wishes - a direct cremation, no fuss, no gathering, just a practical affair. At first, it felt like the right thing to do. Respectful. Simple. Straightforward. What they wanted.
But in the weeks afterward, a quiet ache settled in. Something was missing. And I don’t mean the person - they were gone, and they were honoured - but that moment of gathering, of speaking, of sharing stories out loud. The goodbye hadn’t felt complete.
That’s when they reached out to me. Together, we created a small ceremony in their family home. Just a handful of people, stories and laughter, memories spilling into the corners of the room. They read letters they’d written, played the songs that had mattered, and let the quiet become a space full of presence and love.
By the end, the family told me it felt like the goodbye they had always needed - not rushed, not prescribed, not bound by schedule. Just theirs.
Direct cremation doesn’t have to mean no ceremony. It just means sometimes, the ceremony comes later. And when it does, it can be more intimate, more honest and more human than anyone expected.