I'll Fly Away

I'll Fly Away. ​A Funeral Celebrant’s Reflections on a Life Lived

I have one ringtone, yet when the call is about a death, I hear a different peal.  And so, it was one bright Sunday January afternoon when I pulled off the road in humble anticipation of the life story I was about to hear.  I was greeted with a delightful lilt from the West Indies falling upon my ear.
 
“We’re looking for a priest for my mother’s funeral and the only one we can find is available for 15 minutes on a day that’s not convenient for us.  I found you online and am wondering if you can help.”
 
I explained I’m not a priest and can’t perform Catholic rites, however I can certainly create and conduct a custom ceremony with rituals that truly honour her mother and the life she lived.  And yes, we can respect and include her religious and spiritual beliefs.   

The line fell silent for a moment before the caller continued; “As I sit here talking to you, a cardinal has landed in the tree outside my window and is looking right at me.  I’ve never seen a cardinal in this tree before.  In Mother’s final days she would wonder aloud why the Lord is still keeping her here when she should be going back to the Father, flying and free.  She said she wished she could be a bird, and fly, fly, fly.” 
​
“I believe Spirit has connected us and what you offer may be exactly what we need”.  

Photo credit - Lorraine Cowan

​"Some glad morning when this life is over
I'll fly away"  - Albert E. Brumley

Over the next week, through talks with her children, her friends and her grandchildren. I had the honour of acquainting a wonderful lady who died at the age of 91.   While creating her ceremony, I felt a strong, yet gentle, presence alongside.   

Less than a week later as I was about to open Mrs. M’s ceremony to a chapel filled with mourners, as Carrie Underwood’s rendition of “How Great Thou Art” played in the background, my ears attuned to a low, soft murmur.  

The sound raised with a slow and steady crescendo to become the soulfully deep wail I recognized as “keening”; a long-lost death ritual banned in some organized religions including the one practised by the lady whose life we were honouring. 

As the soulful keening ebbed, the ceremony opened with a reading from Psalms 121 “I will lift up mine eyes”  - such apt words for a lady often seen looking up to marvel at the sky, the clouds and the birds that fly so freely, wishing she could be a bird and fly, fly, fly.     
 
Mrs. M’s life started on a tiny island in the West Indies at a time when women had to muster the strength and resilience of mind, body and spirit to navigate the ways of life.  Like many young women at the time, Mrs. M. became a mother when, by today’s standards, she was still a child herself.  
 
A steadfast constant through her lifetime was her devotion as a loyal and dedicated servant to God.  A natural healer, following an indelible childhood vision, the Star of David became symbolic throughout her life.

Mrs. M didn’t just talk the teachings of a man named Jesus, she lived, walked and breathed them.

Peeling potatoes at homeless shelters when she didn’t have potatoes to feed herself, bartering with tinsmiths in her home island to craft handles upon empty soup cans so the homeless could have the dignity of a cup to drink from, not one religion aligned with Mrs. M’s beliefs, so she followed several in her quest to live a life of service.   

A practising Spiritual Baptist who later discovered the ancient power of women casting their stories into nuts, seeds and beads, Mrs. M. discovered the power in what some religions claimed as “the rosary”.   When I explained the origin of the rosary to her grand daughter, she told me she had a greater appreciation of its power, knowing the practise, like her grandmother, transcended man-made religion.

Image from Pixabay

​As Mrs. M’s life story weaved its way through the ceremony with interludes of soulful gospel music, poetry, stories, eulogies and tears, I saw smiles and nodding heads.  The daughter in mournful keening 30 minutes prior motioned to me she would like to speak, and with a strength that seemingly rose from the earth with support from the heavens, she stood, her voice strong as she delivered a most loving tribute from her heart and soul to her beloved mother. 

When Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli’s rendition of “Time to Say Goodbye” started to fill the chapel, I offered the family time to say their last good-bye before the casket was closed.   

Mrs. M’s children approached, each placing a white rose alongside their mother’s still body, her rosary in her hands and her bands from her Spiritual Baptist days alongside. 

I then watched a most powerful, impromptu ritual unfold as her daughters spontaneously started to pick flowers from the arrangements surrounding their mother’s casket, bundling them into small, delicate bouquets of white, embellished with just the right amount of baby’s breath.

Each daughter offered their bouquet to their mother as they softly shared their last private words.  

Image from Pixabay

​The casket closed, and the room filled with a peaceful, silent energy before  “His Eye is on the Sparrow” accompanied mourners as they left the chapel.   

In the days following, at Mrs. M’s  inurnment ceremony, the same loving energy that filled the chapel the week before became alive throughout the columbarium. 

Before placing the vessel holding her mother's cremains into the niche, her daughter in deep keening several days before, adorned her mother’s urn with a most exquisite symbol to shine over her mother's remains.     

 Religion by itself is nothing.  It takes faith, belief, and an unwavering practice of living a life of service.  I’m truly grateful to have been called to celebrate a beautiful soul whose life transcended religion.

And I do believe we were connected by Spirit.  

I think, for many Professional Funeral Celebrants, the lives we’ve been entrusted to honour through personal ceremony and ritual stay with us.  It’s a privilege bestowed upon us at a time when people are at their most vulnerable.  I've experienced glimmers, seemingly sent from each honouree, appear at the most unusual times, validating the divine mystery of an energy that connects us all with a power that defies a name.      

The Celebrant title isn’t regulated in many countries, including Canada and the U.S., so before engaging someone who calls themselves a “celebrant”, ask where they trained, for how long, and if they have a Code of Ethics. 

Some have no training, some trained over a weekend, and there are others who have sung or played music at funerals or a role at funeral homes and think they can create and conduct a ceremony, usually reading from a template with only the names and dates replaced.   

​No life begins, is lived or ends with a template, so unless your loved one truly wanted rites from their organized religion, how can any 2 lives be ritualized, honoured and celebrated from the same script?  And how can someone who truly walked a spiritual path of service for 91 years, be remembered, respected and honoured in 15 minutes when it's convenient for an officiant? 

Life-Cycle Celebrants are professionals who studied and trained over months to create and conduct a ceremony that reflects your loved ones beliefs, from strongly spiritual, to "when you're dead, you're dead".

Whether you call an end-of-life event a tribute, a celebration, a funeral, a burial, a scattering of ashes or something else, regardless of the time we spend in our body on this Earth, we should be celebrated and remembered with an occasion that truly captures, honours and respects the beliefs we held and the life we lived.     


#funeralcelebrantday
#boutiquecelebrantservice
#transformingwithgrace
#montrealfuneralcelebrant
#nondenominationalfuneralcelebrant
#thefword
#FCD24
#whatfuneralcelebrantsdo