In our professional and personal lives, change is a constant and endings are a part of life. We can fight this – and lots of us try to - or we can learn to ride it. If we can ride it, we will find that every ending holds the seeds of something new, the chance to learn and grow.
As Founder of London funeral directors Poppy's, I’ve had more than a decade of insights from death, and it has transformed me. Now I want to invite you behind the scenes so you can learn too.
This week, I'm taking lessons in death from contemporary artist Andy Goldsworthy, I'm sharing what Remembrance Day means to me and I'm encouraging anyone who doesn't yet have a Will written, to make the most of Will Aid and get it done.
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Andy Goldsworthy's 'Gravestones'
Last week, I nipped up to Edinburgh to catch the final week of artist Andy Goldsworthy's 50 year retrospective at the Royal Scottish Academy.
Andy Goldsworthy's work is breathtakingly beautiful: creations of leaves, stone, wood and straw, playing constantly with the relationship between human and landscape. Many of his works are designed to disappear as soon as he's finished them: like the ice sculptures built when the tide is low which melt into the sea as the water comes back in.
I absolutely love this artist and there are many, many lessons in his work about impermanence, the interdependence of our species and the land, and just doing something for the sheer joy of it.
But in this exhibition, it was an artwork about death that caught and held my attention.
'Gravestones' is a sea of rock, laid out on the floor, all the way to the back of the room. The only place where you, the viewer, can tread, is along the edge where the rocks end abruptly. This line is not higgledy, piggledy like rocks usually are: this is a razor-sharp line between life and death.
Goldsworthy has spoken publicly about this work. It came together after he visited the grave of his ex-wife Judith. He saw a pile of stones sitting against the wall of the cemetery and realised they had been unearthed during the digging of graves. In Goldsworthy's words, 'the stones are a powerful reminder that we are bound to the land – of life and death, of where we come from and where we return.’
There were people in the room visibly moved. And I've since read lots of reviews of the exhibition which hone in on this artwork as the most impactful in the exhibition. I am so glad that artists can help us think about, reflect on and come close to death when doing so in everyday life feels so hard.
Sometimes it's more impactful to have emotion summoned up by something creative, than it is to try and talk about something head on.
I'm curious to know: are there artworks, pieces of music or theatre, film or TV that have helped you to reflect on death and grief? If so, I'd love to hear about them.
Remembering My Ancestors and Remembrance Day
I was lucky to grow up in a family that put a lot of emphasis on remembering our ancestors, particularly those who died in the first and second world wars.
My great uncles, in particular, were discussed often, including on our annual Easter walks on the Isle of Wight where my relatives would tell stories, again and again, until we knew every twist and turn. Interestingly, those stories were woven in with other stories: some about real people they admired, like Captain Scott (of the Antarctic). Others were religious: tales of prayer leading to a miracle. The repetition of the stories year after year, and the excellent story-telling meant that, as a young child, it took me an embarrassingly long time to realise I wasn't related to Captain Scott and that Jesus hadn't specifically saved someone we knew from drowning in a storm on the Isle of Wight.
And it wasn't just story-telling. The physical fabric of my family's life was surrounded by remembrance. Black and white pictures and portraits of our ancestors hung on the walls of the family home. The windows engraved with the names of my great-grandparents, and their children, who built the house. There still is a small and beautiful garden full of rosemary where the names of ancestors are engraved on a sundial.
My upbringing was awash with remembrance.
And in November we would walk across the field to the local church where many of our ancestors are buried, for Remembrance Sunday, while The Last Post played on the trumpet.
It really shaped me to grow up like this. I got to feel like my ancestors were real people and that they lived with me, in my consciousness. That was so, so wonderful and a remarkable privilege.
I'm also thoughtful about the stories that got told, and those that didn't. Mostly the lives remembered were brave ones, mostly men. The stories were about acts of courage and morality.
As I get older, I want to know more about the women. I want to know about the care-takers. I want to better understand the whole tribe, not just the few and not just the moments burnished in gold.
Remembrance Day is important for me now. It's a chance to remember and be grateful to all those people, so many who were so very young, who gave their lives for our safety and freedom. I want to continue and keep up my family's ritual of talking often about those great uncles and the millions more they died alongside.
And, I want to remember them as people as well as soldiers. I want to think of them in the wider web of ancestors they came from. At this time of year, as the days get shorter and the darkness draws in, I want to lean in to the opportunity to feel reflective, to remember them and to make them a meaningful part of my life.
What does Remembrance Day mean to you? What does this time of the year bring up for you? If you were comfortable to share, I'd be so interested to hear.
Get Your Will Done!
November is Will Aid, when a bunch of solicitors kindly agree to waive their fee to write you a simple Will. This is such great news!
Why bother?
😣 It reduces stress, misunderstandings and fallouts for the people in your life after you have died.
🧒 You can name guardians for your children, and pets, if you have them.
📜 Without a Will, the law will decide how your belongings, money and property are divvied up. This might sound fine. But talk to someone impacted by this and they will beg you to write a Will today.
There was a helpful article on the BBC website about why young people should get their Wills written with thoughtful quotes from Octopus Legacy's Sam Grice. Have a read and see what you think.
Have you avoided having a Will written? If so, this may be the encouragement you need to get something written down on paper so you don't have to think about it anymore!
Okay friends, until next time.
About the Author
I founded Poppy's in 2012 to make outstanding care the norm when someone dies. Running a young company through the 2010s, I experienced pretty much constant organisational chop and change. Along the way I had three kids, now aged 10, 8 and 6. In 2021 I went through a leadership succession, recruited a CEO and changed my role to Founder & Chair. Change, endings and fresh starts are my buddies and friends.
Poppy's is a funeral directors, based in London, with a fresh approach to funerals. Instead of following rigid traditions, we listen to what you want and need. Instead of hiding behind closed doors, we’re open about how we care for the living and the dead. At Poppy's, we’re by your side every step of the way.