Jenny died, aged 34, in a car accident. She had always been an independent free-spirited person and her family and friends wanted a funeral which would have room for their grief whilst also being a celebration of Jenny's life.
Because the death was so sudden, everyone felt subject to a terrible sense of urgency and an oppressive need to hurry when making the funeral arrangements. I phoned a local funeral director and asked if they could store Jenny's body and give the family time to think. Fortunately, they were happy to do this and storage was arranged for eight days. This made an enormous difference, taking the pressure off the family and allowing them time to decide what sort of funeral service they really wanted.
Jenny's partner, David, wanted to have a nature reserve or Woodland burial, as he knew that this is what Jenny would have preferred. However, none of the family liked the idea of using a conventional coffin: it was ugly, expensive and wasteful. I suggested that they could use a biodegradable body bag and that they could decorate it if they wished. This idea really caught the family's imagination, and Jenny's mum and her two young nieces (Samantha 11 and Nicola 9) covered the plain cotton bag with appliquéd flowers, stars, animals, birds and geometric shapes, using bright fabrics, ribbons, beads, sequins and fabric paints. Other people wrote little messages on the bag too and when finished, it had become a unique cocoon for Jenny to rest in.
Jenny's brother, Alan, and some of her friends washed and cleaned his elderly Volvo Estate, ready to transport the body. On the day, the back of the car held a thick layer of new-mown hay – a smell that Jenny had loved. They also prepared a wooden pallet with rope handles to support the body bag when carrying it. I had managed to find a woodland burial site not too far away which suited the family – they were able to go and look at it and choose a plot.
The day before the funeral, Alan and some of Jenny's friends brought the body home resplendent in its colourful cocoon (no one called it a bag). People wanted to be able to sit in silence with the body. The curtains were closed and the soft glow of candlelight lit the room. An oil burner released the gentle scent of lavender. I had blessed the room and the body previously. Several people said later that there was a sense of sacredness about the room and a deep feeling of peace.
On the day, everyone travelled down to a pub near the burial site. A marquee had been erected in the pub gardens, which were quite large and secluded. People brought tables, chairs, cloths, cutlery, dishes and a wonderful variety of food and drink – a real joint effort in which people seemed very glad to be able to participate and make their own contribution to the proceedings. Jenny's body was laid on a bier at one end of the marquee (actually a set of milk crates covered by a beautiful African cloth) Nearby was a memorial table upon which were photographs, candles, objects, etc to commemorate Jenny's life. Among these were her old teddybear, a statue of a horse (she loved horses) some favourite books, her walking boots (suitably encrusted with mud), bright yellow chrysanthemums in a pot and some of her favourite jewellery. Guests added to this collection too.
The family wanted as little formality as possible, though a rough timetable was kept to. It had been debated whether or not to allow children to take part at the gathering but the consensus was strongly in favour of inviting them to do so if they wished. The very little ones treated it as some sort of party and played outside for most of the time. Those who were old enough to understand what was happening appreciated being given the choice.
Everyone sat in a circle, which included Jenny's body at the north side. People had brought poems, songs, excerpts from books, reminiscences, memories, accounts of episodes that they had shared with Jenny. Some simply spoke of their feelings, or did not speak at all. Several expressed deep and bitter anger at the suddenness and untimeliness of Jenny's death. Afterwards there was eating, drinking, talking, weeping and laughter too.
The teams of bearers took turns to carry the body on the half mile journey to the burial site, and everyone else followed on. There was a spontaneous sense of solemnity among the gathering – people fell silent or murmured quietly. Then someone began singing "Swing low sweet chariot" and others joined in. It was a powerfully moving experience.
At the graveside Jenny's body was carefully lowered with ropes onto new mown hay from the car. Some people threw flowers into the grave. I said a short blessing, commending Jenny's body to the rich earth and her spirit to the wild wings of the north wind. The grave was filled in by many helping hands and finally Jenny's parents and David planted a little beech tree. Most people returned to the marquee now, as dusk was falling, but some remained behind. They had brought candle lanterns, a guitar and wine "We're going to sit with her a bit and sing her to sleep" one said. As I left the field, I looked back at the soft candlelight in the darkening twilight and had a strong sense of the natural rightness of all that had happened that day.
There were broken hearts and troubled minds, there had been pain and anger – some, perhaps, never to heal – but running through the events of the day, like a bright thread in a tapestry, was the sure and certain feeling of a good thing well done. Jenny, wherever she had gone, had sailed on a high tide of love. For those whom she had left behind, there was, at least, the knowledge that they had created something powerful and real and meaningful to mark Jenny's presence among them.