My mum died at the beginning of February 2025.
“Nook, I’m calling to tell you that your mother, Elizabeth, died at 11:20 this evening. I’ve called the funeral directors and they will come and collect her – is she to be buried or cremated?”
The call had woken me. My mind was not clear. I was still trying to comprehend that my mum was gone. All I could say was “What do you need from me? What do I need to do?”.
“There’s nothing you need to do, but you can come in and see her before the funeral directors arrive if you’d like to.”
I sat there uncertain. Did I want to see her one last time? I felt like I should. They hadn’t been able to reach my siblings, so it was up to me to let them know. I composed a short two-line text to my brothers and sister:
“Just got a call from the care home, mum died at 11:20pm. Love you x”
I got dressed and jumped in the car to take a final trip to the place that had been home to my Mum for the last 5 years. As I walked past the RN’s office, she saw me and offered condolences, and again asked if Mum was to be buried or cremated.
I knew the answer, but I just didn’t want to say, it seemed too final, too soon. I told her I’d discuss that with the funeral directors.
Fortunately because of my deep dive into death and all the things that come with it, I knew I didn’t have to answer right away. But many people may not know that. It's a heavy decision if the deceased's preferences are unknown—and it doesn’t have to be decided at time of death. Unlike organ donation, where timing is critical, burial or cremation can wait.
Seeing my mum was confronting. But I didn't take this opportunity with my dad and have thought about that a lot over the last three years. This time, I chose differently. It was sad and I cried, but I was able to give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her I loved her. That, to me, felt like an important thing to do.
The next morning, after a few phone calls, I went into “event planning mode”. A beautiful friend provided me with a collection of "Order of Service" books from previous funerals. It's funny how people keep these. I have a few. Another friend has an entire drawer full of them. They certainly came in handy and allowed me to keep busy planning.
With fight or flight in full swing, melded with a surreal sadness, I needed to be doing something.
I spoke with my siblings, and they each made calls to other family members to notify them. I rang some of our family friends and got contact numbers for the local priest, the parish church, the organist, a florist.
Thankfully, again because of the work I’ve been doing, I knew the funeral director personally, which did make things a bit easier. He needed some info for the death certificate, which I had a bit of trouble with.
Mum's birthday was wrong on some paperwork and he wanted me to confirm the correct date.
For some reason, I was unsure if the date on the paperwork was wrong, or I was wrong. For the record, I was right. But in that discombobulated grief state, nothing seems certain.
The same thing happened when he asked me my grandmother’s first name and maiden name. I knew it, but I couldn't retrieve it from my addled brain. It's strange what grief can do to the mind.
True to form nothing went exactly to plan. We were unable to set a date for the funeral for four days—it had to do with church and priest availability. We knew the funeral had to be at St Eddie’s, so we just had to wait.
But the date didn’t matter yet. I had a list of tasks to do to ensure I gave my mum a sendoff she deserved— one that reflected her life.
I started with photos.
That afternoon, over a few glasses of bubbles with my brother and close friends, we poured through thousands of photos. The outfits, the hair, the holidays, parties, weddings, graduations, grandchildren - and it was lovely to remember her and all those times together, an amazing life.
That evening, after a few vinos, I went to bed thinking about what needed to be done in the next 24 hours. Phone calls, the obituary, scanning photos, choosing readings, picking songs, finding caterers, deciding on the type of sandwiches and the number of people we should cater for. So, in that vein, I’ve put a little list together that may come in handy someday:
If you know anyone that needs this sort of help, please share this with them. It is a useful, practical way that you can show your support during what is otherwise a really rubbish time.
**** This was the image I was originally keen to use, but I though better of it ****
WARNING: DARK HUMOUR AHEAD
This may offend some, so now the choice is yours....
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Ciao for now x
Nook
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