Mum’s Funeral, Our Way: The Power of an Authentic Goodbye.

For me, one of the most meaningful acts of authenticity happened in the most heartbreaking season of my life: my mum’s funeral on 13th February 2025.

When we talk about authenticity, it can sound like a buzzword - something tossed around in self-help circles.  But authenticity isn’t a performance.  It’s a quiet, fierce commitment to doing things in a way that feels true - especially when it matters most.

I remember the day after mum died. I was sitting in the funeral parlour, surrounded by soft voices and well-meant tradition.  The spoke of hymns and readings, of solemn rituals laid out like a script we were expected to follow. But something in me recoiled.  My inner child stirred - wild and fierce. I felt my fists clench in my lap. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, to knock the table sideways and shout, this isn’t right, this isn’t mum, this isn’t us. That moment told me everything I needed to know: we needed to choose our truth over tradition, we couldn’t do this the usual way.

So we listened to our hearts and held the funeral the day before Valentine’s Day, a day soaked in love, layered with symbolism and intention. We filled the hearse with red helium balloons, placed 100 red roses on mum's coffin and walked down the aisle to God Only Knows, sang by Andy Williams with my father, my brother and I all holding a single red rose. We played love songs instead of hymns. We read poetry. My brother sang and played ‘Wonderful Tonight’ on the piano with a rawness and beauty that still echoes in my heart. And in doing so, we discovered the magical and radiant power of an authentic goodbye.

There’s no one right way to say goodbye.  Just like there’s no one right way to live, to love, or to honour a story.  What matters is that if feels real.  That it feels true.  In choosing authenticity over tradition, we didn’t just honour Mum - we gave ourselves permission to grieve honestly, to remember her as she was, and to love her out loud.  When the world gives you a script for how you’re meant to do something - whether that’s a funeral, a wedding, a job, a life - you don’t have to follow it.  You can rip it up and write your own.  That’s what authenticity is. It’s not about rejecting tradition for the sake of it.  It’s about asking: does this feel true to me? To us? To mum? And if the answer is no, you’re allowed to choose something else. Even if it looks different.  Especially if it looks different.

Sometimes, it’s that raw, childlike instinct - the clenched fists, the urge to run, to shout, to feel - that tells us the deepest truth.  In my work now, I help others listen to that voice within.  The one that knows when something isn’t true and dares to ask: What would feel more true to me instead?  If you are navigating a season of change, overwhelm or self-discovery, I’d be honoured to walk beside you.

It's your life, live it by design - not by default and in doing so, you just might discover your own kind of beautiful.