Hello and welcome to Life Lessons from Death, a newsletter for people and organisations curious to know what death can teach us about living and working well.
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 talking to journalists about death, I'm celebrating the people who step forward and help, and I'm noticing when it's time to let others help, and also lead.
I post updates fortnightly so please do subscribe and share widely.
Talking to journalists about death
Every now and then, I'll get a last minute call from a TV or radio show asking me to come on and talk to the host about death or funerals. If I can get there and the conversation sounds helpful and respectful, I'll always say yes.
Yesterday it was Shay Kaur Grewal on BBC Radio London. Shay's aunt has just died and she and her cousin got to be there. As well as talking about the privilege of being alongside her aunt as she died, Shay expressed something important that so many of us feel when our time comes: the 'oh my god, what do we do now?' reality of death and grief.
I loved talking to Shay who I found to be respectful, interested, open and generally doing an excellent job to communicate to the public about difficult subjects that impact them and matter.
The truth is that in fifteen years and hundreds of conversations with journalists and producers, I can count on one hand the experiences that have been depressing. So why am I having such a gentle time in a world where the media can be perceived to be sensationalising, biased or click-baity? Why have my experiences been consistently good?
Death is a 'no nonsense' zone. It's actually very hard to talk about death without having a meaningful, personal conversation. It seems to clear the huff and puff out of the room.
Talking about death softens people. Even when the conversation starts out 'top-level' or dry, perhaps a chat about the lack of regulation in the funeral sector, humanity creeps in when the journalist shares an anecdote about their own experience. I think this vulnerability gets the best out of people.
Death is an equaliser. You can't be superior or stuffy when talking about death. If it hasn't come into our lives yet, we know it certainly will. No one can have the upper hand.
Death is an endlessly interesting conversation. What choices do we have for our bodies when we die? How can we have a sustainable funeral? How can I help my family or community start talking about death? How to save money? I always end the conversation feeling there was so much more to discuss.
Journalists can be respectful and thoughtful. I have only had one experience in fifteen years where I thought the journalist was a total pillock. Even when the opportunity felt wrong and I've said no - almost always 'celebrities' wacky funerals!' - producers have been polite, shown genuine interest and responded respectfully to my point of view. I have always come away glad I had the conversation.
So I'm going to keep showing up for these opportunities to talk publicly about death and funerals and I hope you listen in when I do! If you want to hear yesterday's interview with Shay, go to 2 hours, 23 minutes in.
p.s. thanks to all the journalists, producers, podcasters and co who have made me want to keep talking: Rosie Ifould, Suzanne Bearne, Julie Thompson Dredge, Tim Reid Media, Kat Storr, Victoria Young, Katie Burnetts, George Wright-Theohari, Vix Brenninkmeijer, Sophie Farrah, Kate Bassett, Robert Wright, Persis Love, Jon Kelly, Izzy Lyons, Anna Bassi, Emily Unia, Tom Young, Lotte Jones, Andy McLean and more.
Letting others help
Last week two things happened: both in London, both on the tube.
🚇 Crossing the city with my kids, we see a family of German tourists trying to get on to our carriage. The doors close, separating the tween-aged kids on the tube from the parents on the platform. Shocked and scared, the younger kid bursts into tears. Out of nowhere, a woman in her 40s steps forward, wraps her arms around the kid, looks her straight in the eyes and says: 'it will be alright. I’ve got you. I can help.' As the child continues to cry, the woman repeats comforting words in a calm voice: 'it’s okay, I’ve got you. It will be okay. We’ll get off at the next station and your parents will join us there.' Lots of eye contact and gentle, protective touch. They get off together at the next stop, knowing the parents will be along to be reunited in a few minutes. No doubt the woman’s plans delayed a bit, but for the very best reasons. And I'm hoping the German family go home that night thinking, ‘how lovely are people in London?’
🚇 The next day, travelling on my own, an elderly woman with a beautiful doe-eyed greyhound stands in the area by the tube doors. Very slowly I notice she is sliding down towards the floor, leaning against the tube carriage as she goes. No fall, no drama, just a slow collapse. She is unconscious and then comes round. She has wet herself. Immediately three people, strangers to one another, step forward. One holds her hand, makes eye contact, reassuring. One takes the dog, stroking and soothing. The third person pulls the emergency cord. The tube pulls in. The three strangers support her off the tube and onto a seat on the platform. As the tube pulls away, I can see the elderly woman has a look of serenity on her face, surrounded by these three people who are now late for their meetings, but for the very best reason.
Historically I have been someone with an instinct to leap towards helping. It runs in my family where we have nurses, police officers, social workers and doctors: lots of us, I'm sure, validated by being helpers. At its best it means we are useful, kind, compassionate. On the phone with my nurse cousin yesterday, she driving down the M1, she pauses the call because she's seen an accident and wants to pull over to see if she can help. At its worst I know it can lead to an over-inflated sense of service, possibly (cringe) ego too. Like the time on the night bus when I inserted myself in a domestic fight between a couple and my husband Chris reminded me I was making things worse and that he would likely get punched in the fallout.
These two experiences on the tube reminded me of something important.
❤️ There are many, many helpers out there. If you identify as a helper, it can be grounding and reassuring to sometimes let other people do the helping. It doesn't always have to be you. Society could (and should?) be a network, a net, of everyone caring for everyone else: we can all hold a reasonable amount of responsibility for watching out for each other. It's better for us all to be energised helpers and carers, rather than some of us to be exhausted, burnt out heroes.
❤️ In the instance on the tube with my kids, I got to do something different. Knowing the woman had it covered, I got to spend the time reminding my kids what to do if they find themselves separated from adults on public transport. But secondly and more importantly, to encourage them (and me) to see and remember how kind and helpful most people are: that when you need it, there are people, often strangers, waiting right there to help you.
So I’m celebrating London, I’m celebrating the tube, I’m celebrating the kindness of strangers, I’m celebrating a world that is often (of course not always) safer or more loving than we imagine.
Letting others lead
Handing over the leadership of your organisation is another version of this. For me, when this time came, it wasn't the result of a strategic process but rather a moment of clarity and realisation. Poppy's needed something different and so did I. Clare Montagu's arrival as CEO was our best chance at meeting our potential as an organisation.
People often ask me if handing over the leadership of Poppy's was hard. That isn’t the word I’d use. Instead:
😌 It was a relief. I’d come to the end of my energy. It was hugely reassuring to have someone in the role who was so capable, ambitious and grounded in reality.
💡 It was an opportunity to learn. Although I see Clare and my values as closely aligned, her skills are quite different to mine. Working alongside Clare has been an opportunity to see another way to do things. That has influenced me greatly.
🚀 It was a fast track to a new way of working. As Chair rather than CEO, I quickly had to adapt to a new approach. Listening rather than talking. Trusting rather than controlling. I had been a CEO who thought and communicated simultaneously. I think (hope?) I have become a Chair who can filter out the nine unhelpful thoughts and share the one that actually matters: clearly and confidently.
🎮 It was a reminder that although it sometimes feels like it must be you holding the reins, it can and often should be someone else.
Have you been a leader who has handed on the reins? How did you navigate that? What did you learn? Have you been the person taking over? What was that like?
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.