Holding On, Letting Go

 

There’s something about September that makes many of us pause.

Perhaps it’s the change in the light. The mornings becoming cooler. Children returning to school. Holidays coming to an end.

The pace of life seems to shift.

And somehow, it’s often around this time that memories have a way of finding us.

Not because we’ve gone looking for them.

They simply arrive.

 

A song on the radio.

The smell of autumn in the air.

Walking past a place we haven’t visited for years.

Or hearing someone use a phrase that instantly brings a smile because it’s exactly what a loved one used to say.

Those moments are often unexpected.

But they remind us that the people we’ve loved rarely disappear from our lives completely.

One of the things I’ve noticed through my work as a celebrant is that when families talk about someone they’ve lost, they don’t usually begin with the biggest moments.

They rarely start with careers, achievements or important dates.

Instead, they tell me about the little things.

How they always whistled while making breakfast.

The chair they always sat in.

The joke everyone had heard a hundred times but still laughed at anyway.

The way they signed birthday cards.

 

It’s those ordinary details that seem to carry the greatest weight.

Perhaps because they’re the things that quietly became part of family life.

I’ve also come to realise that the people we love continue to shape us long after they’re gone.

We catch ourselves using the same expressions.

Cooking the same recipes.

Passing on the same advice to our own children.

Without really noticing, parts of them become part of us.

 

I think that’s one of the reasons funerals matter so much.

Of course, they’re a chance to say goodbye.

But they’re also a chance to gather those memories together.

To hear stories that others have carried for years.

To laugh at moments we’d forgotten.

To discover parts of someone’s life we never knew.

For a little while, a room full of people helps build that person again through memory.

And somehow, that feels incredibly comforting.

 

Grief has a way of changing over time.

It doesn’t disappear.

It simply becomes something we learn to carry differently.

Some days, it catches us by surprise.

Other days, it sits quietly in the background.

Neither is right or wrong.

It’s simply part of loving someone who mattered.

 

As a celebrant, I often hear people talk about “moving on.”

I’m not sure that’s quite the phrase I’d choose.

Perhaps it’s more about moving forward while carrying someone with us.

Allowing them to remain part of our story.

Because when someone has shaped your life, why would you want to leave them behind?

September has always felt like a month of gentle reflection.

A chance to notice where we’ve been before we step into another season.

And perhaps that’s what remembrance really is.

Not holding on to the past.

But recognising that love has a remarkable way of continuing.

In the stories we tell.

The values we pass on.

The habits we’ve inherited.

The lives we’ve touched because they first touched ours.

 

If you’re thinking about creating a funeral or memorial that reflects the person behind the memories, I’d be honoured to help create a ceremony that feels personal, thoughtful and true to the life they lived.