My former career as a Holistic Funeral Director was a role in the community I valued deeply and am proud of. I was able to combine my professional therapeutic skills with ritual whilst keeping a social justice and community development lens. What does that mean really? Well, it meant that I showed up to families with the ability to understand I did not need to fix this mostly awful thing that has happened for them, but could walk alongside them and provide them with heartfelt support, empathy and honest information they needed to care for the person who had died. There are so many death stories that I continue to reflect on.
I thought I would share three stories about ashes, urns and children.
This blog began with a photo and a reconnection with a family. The photo I have shared is Alby’s urn. Alby was a three-year-old much-loved child who died suddenly and unexpectedly. I met his parents, Kim and Greg in their funeral arrangement in a community ceremony that I will never forget. The rainbows, the story telling, the heartbreak. What stayed with me was Kim and Greg’s sense of graciousness. Amongst the shock and trauma, they were able to remain open, heart led and creative. They leaned in to showcasing ALL of Alby’s life and their love for him. Through social media, Alby’s mum reached out to me not long ago to check if I was the same person she remembers from the funeral, I was so glad she did. What she could not know was how many times I have shared with families, the story of Alby’s urn.
Alby’s urn is made of LEGO! Often parents find it hard to choose the right urn for their child and flipping through catalogues or Etsy can feel too impersonal. I have used my memory of Alby’s urn to remind parents to take their time and choose, or make, the urn that feels right for them and their child.
After reconnecting with Kim, I learned that Alby has a little brother and his urn changes scenes on top; seasonal changes like Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Lunar New Year and of course his birthday. Kim even let me know that occasionally Alby’s little brother likes to pick off Lego pieces and she feels like it’s their way of fighting over their toys! Alby’s urn also goes off to his grandparents for a sleepover when his family are away.
Whilst thinking about an urn for a child can feel like an impossible task, I am comforted to know parents/ families can lead with their hearts and creativity.
Alby’s lego urn images provided by his parents Kim and Greg
I was returning the ashes of a grandfather to his family and his grandchild who was around six years old asked me
“Are his bones and blood in there?”
Well, that was something I had never considered and what a fabulous question!
This family had given this child the gift of multi-generational living AND dying. The gentleman’s family cared for him at home with community palliative care and they also cared for him at home for 3 days before his cremation. This child had been involved in all the parts of his final weeks and I was lucky to have met this family several times in that journey so the child knew who I was. We had already had some great Q&A sessions.
It was interesting to see the minutia that a child’s mind explores, what we adults take for granted in knowledge. Are his blood and bones in there? Well, no. I looked to their parent and grandparent for guidance. A glance and a raised eyebrow exchanged and permission to continue. I reminded the child that when I was there last, we put their ‘Pa’ into his coffin. We drove him to the cemetery where there is a crematorium. ‘Pa’ inside his coffin, went into a special small room where it was very hot and the body turned to ashes. The container I was holding in my hands was their Pa’s ashes. The child looked me in the eye (as they often do, I think to test the ‘bullshit’ radar) and accepted that explanation. I reminded them that with their parent and grandparent, they could have a look in the container another time if they wanted.
I trust that this child will in time, understand more about cremation and their family will deliver information as it is asked and explored with honesty and compassion. For a six-year-old, that was enough for that day.
This interaction stayed with me because those questions are curly and as a professional and parent myself, we are always gauging the capacity of every child in every moment.
*stock image
Recently, a friend was sharing the story about how her family had gathered to scatter the ashes of her sister. Multiple generations of the family came together and at the time of the scattering, opening the urn brought a decision: how do we actually do this? Do we all have a turn each of pouring the ashes bit by bit, does one person pour the whole lot in one movement? These are small but very important decisions. They speak to the unspoken parts of our soul that seek ritual and connection.
They decided they would all take turns to scatter a small amount. When it came time for her seven-year-old daughter to be involved, she was insistent that the ashes be poured directly into her cupped little hands so she could feel connected to her Aunty and ‘fly’ them into the wind with her own hands. My friend hesitated, but trusted the wisdom of her child and followed her lead. She watched with pride at her child’s embodied experience and could see immediately that the path of death care in her family had forever been changed.
All three of these stories speak to something I have come to trust deeply: when we include children in death in lived, practical ways, they become naturally more informed, and more supported. Not because we hand them the whole truth in one go, but because we let them ask, touch, choose and lead. The next time a child in your life asks you a curly question about death, you do not need to have the complete answer ready; simply stay curious alongside them.
Alby’s mum Kim, has a background in Mental Health Occupational Therapy is now providing Grief and Loss counselling. She can be contacted via her website - https://mindandheartgriefcounselling.com.au/
