The Country Celebrant and The Country Carer

It has been a few months since I wrote a piece. I have been busy working on the Doula side of my business and it occurred to me that some of you might be interested to know a little more. Doula comes from the ancient Greek and translates as a handmaiden or servant - birth doulas are trained in supporting a woman through the birthing process.  End of life doulas, sometimes called soul midwives, are trained in supporting someone through the process of dying. Our training is not medical.  We are trained to support a family in the closing days of life, to be an advocate for the person who is dying and to be a shoulder to cry on; a gatekeeper and a friend. My experience of doula-ing is very practical; I will spend time with the dying person to allow the principal carer a break, my role can be to help them to mend fences, clear up loose ends and say goodbye.  I do this by listening to what they want, I encourage the important people to be there and keep the conflict and...

I thought that some of you might be interested in my work as a Doula. I have worked with families for a very long time; I am a Mother to three wonderful and very nearly grown-up people and I have run a pre-school in Hampshire since forever. When my Father died I wanted to honour him by burying him on his farm.  I struggled to talk to him about his wishes right until the end; I did not have the courage to raise such a personal issue. As is so often the case, events overtook us ... he was terminally ill and had made it clear to the doctors that he wanted no further intervention.  He died in his own bed with those whom he loved carrying on as best they could around him. We buried him in a clearing on the farm.  The only people present were his immediate family, a very compassionate funeral director (who happened to be my son's rugby coach) and the dogs. I knew then that I needed to learn to do this job properly and by that I don't mean the formality of being a ce...

www.thecountrycelebrant.co.uk Symbolism White Clover - thinking of you I recently attended my first Death Cafe; not a particularly inviting name, but a meeting of minds and a wonderfully uplifting experience. We talked about why we were there, what experience we had of death and what we wanted from the evening ... cake was high on the list!  More than anything it was the chance to talk about our experiences and our worries about death and bereavement. Death is the certainty; but what about the taboos and the awkwardness of dealing with death?  An elderly gentleman spoke movingly about his experiences of death in the old days.  He came from a close knit community where the dead were part of the fabric of everyday life. The deceased would be laid out in the front parlour and when there was a meal to be had at the table, moved underneath it.  The ladies of the community would come to your house and help you to prepare the body for burial. There was ...

In the last year I have conducted all manner of funerals. There have been the timely deaths of beloved people where the ceremony has been one of quiet, or raucous, celebration of a life lived to the full and ended peacefully. There have been tragic deaths through suicide and illness, where the person has been snatched from those that love them in a way that is cruel and heartless.  A cold, bleak time when all you can do is hug the pain into some sort of temporary submission. There have been slow lingering departures where there has been time to prepare and say goodbye, to plan the ending and to tie up all the loose ends, so to speak. I have been in awe of the dignity and composure of both those leaving and those being left.  The stories that I have had the honour of retelling.  The poignant words written by children about their Grandparents. The gut twisting pain of listening to a husband talk of his wife and what she meant to him. The keepsakes that I ha...