On this day in 1986, I was ordained Deacon in the Church of England in Dorchester Abbey (that’s Dorchester on Thames, in Oxfordshire, by the way, not the one in Dorset) by the Bishop of Dorchester. That makes today the 30th anniversary of my ordination. 

Yesterday, the 29th anniversary of my ordination as a Priest in the Church of England, I had my toughest gig ever – officiating at the funeral of my brother, Nic. Nic was not religious and it was a non-religious funeral, but his wife and sons asked if I would conduct the ceremony. After some agonising, I said I would. Because they asked me, and, you know how when someone dies, people say, “If there’s anything I can do…”  It was clear that there was something I could do: take some of the skills and experience gained over thirty years of taking funerals and use them to support the family at this dark, dark time. And, if I’m honest, it occurred to me that I would rather be stood at the front making it happen than sat down listening to someone else do it. I was reasonably confident that, if I could hold it together, I could do as good a job as anyone. And I think that’s what happened. It was tough but I think I did it as well as anyone could. 

Given that it was a non-religious service, I couldn’t fall back on familiar words, so I put together something that I thought would fit the bill. It had to provide family and friends with the opportunity to pay their respects, say their goodbyes and celebrate Nic’s life, as well as acknowledging their pain, expressing their support for one another and considering what this funeral might mean for the lives we go back to. All without mentioning heaven or Jesus. 

We came in to the crematorium to Frankie Valli’s ‘The Night’ – a Wigan Casino Northern Soul classic.  After words of introduction from me, we shared family memories. I read words from Laura, Ruby and Ben, and Alex delivered his own tribute. There were more swear words than I usually find in church funeral services. 

We then listened to Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’, which Nic discovered on a 78RPM record retrieved from our uncle Terry’s collection. Nic said he wanted it played at his funeral because it would have everyone in tears. And that’s what happened.  I then offered a (non-religious) reflection. It turns out, I suggested, that love really is the only thing that matters. An insight shared by Nat King Cole’s song, ‘Nature Boy’ (as performed by David Bowie in the film, ‘Moulin Rouge’) and, as it happens, the bible. 

I took the opportunity to remind the congregation that one in four of us will suffer from mental health issues and to encourage people not to suffer in silence but to seek help. I pointed out that donations in Nic’s memory could be made to the Alzheimer’s Society.

I felt we should have a reading of some sort. Obviously, in a religious service this would have been from the Bible. I asked family for suggestions but none was forthcoming. In the end, I shared a passage from the only book I remember Nic reading, ‘Stig of the Dump‘. 

For the commital, we listened to Public Image Limited’s ‘Big Blue Sky’. Laura had asked for the curtains to remain open, as she was not ready for the ‘finality’ of losing sight of the coffin, but I suggested we used the time silently to say our goodbyes. After that, my closing words were to invite everyone to continue the celebration of Nic’s life, and to show their support to the family, by gathering a the Wootton Hall Social Club. We left the chapel to The Tams’ ‘Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy’. It’s a bit late for me to be young, but I think there’s still time to be foolish and – eventually – happy.