🌿 Chapter 7 - Jackie’s Funeral – A Celebration

 

I’m not someone who believes in much ritual. Jackie wasn’t either.

So her funeral was exactly what she would have wanted: simple in the formalities, full of warmth, and full of surprises.

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Part One: The Crematorium

 

We only had a hearse to take her to the crematorium. No procession through the streets. No cars for the family. No Order of Service handed out like a script for an event.

No flowers.

No suggested donations.

 

Instead, we created something personal — a day that reflected Jackie as she really was.

 

We held the funeral in two parts:

first at the crematorium, with family and a small group of her closest friends;

and then at Jackie’s church, The Salvation Army, where many more people joined us.

 

I discussed everything with the family, and they helped me shape the day.

The crematorium service was the more solemn of the two, but not entirely. We gave everyone a badge with a photo of Jackie surrounded by the Crystal Palace Football Club motto: “South London and Proud.” Jackie would have loved that.

 

An Army Officer (a vicar) read In Praise of a Life Well Lived, adapted from Proverbs 31.

A lifelong friend — and the boys’ former nanny — read from the Qur'an.

Then one of our granddaughters spoke beautifully about the Aboriginal understanding of death as a return to the Dreaming.

 

And then it was my turn. I began with these words:

 

“When someone dies it is the little things that hurt so much. A creak in a floorboard. Nutbush City Limits. A mis-seen figure in a crowd.  A week after Jac died, I got out of bed and went into the kitchen and made two cups of tea. I had to pour one away.”

 

Afterwards, we asked everyone to clap for Jackie — and they did, wholeheartedly.

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Part Two – The Celebration

 

Everyone then drove the few miles to the church, where we were joined by many more friends. Newcomers received a badge and a kazoo — an odd combination perhaps, but entirely in the spirit of the day.

 

Shortly after Jackie was diagnosed with dementia, the Alzheimer’s Society made a 30-minute video of her life, told by her and by us. We divided this video into eight parts and played it throughout the service.

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Between each segment, something meaningful happened:

 

• a letter written by our son George

• a duet sung by two West End performers

• a poem called The Dash

• a tribute from Nicholas

• Jackie’s favourite piece of music, Nimrod

• and a prayer (it was a church after all)

 

For the finale, everyone played their kazoos to Bring Me Sunshine.

The whole room joined in — a moment of silly joy, which is exactly what Jackie brought to life.

 

Afterwards we all moved into the church hall for comfort food from a supermarket and cakes made by her friends, along with plenty of tea, sausage rolls, and the kind of homemade food that feels like a hug.

 

Finally, everyone went home with a small party bag:

a picture of Jackie, her recipe for fish soup, an outline drawing of Jackie to colour in, some sweets, and a candle.

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I went home alone on a tram.

 

It was, in every way, a celebration of her life — heartfelt, honest, unconventional, and full of love.

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Next:  Chapter 8 - The Paperwork Mountain

Previous: Chapter 6 - The Final Months