When we lose someone we love, there is naturally a lot of sadness.

But alongside the sadness, there are also years of memories. There are stories, adventures, friendships, family traditions, funny moments, favourite places, songs, sayings and all those little things that made that person who they were.

So perhaps saying goodbye doesn’t always have to be entirely about loss.

Sometimes, it can be about celebrating a life.

A celebration of life is a ceremony or gathering that focuses on remembering and honouring the person who has died.

It can be as traditional or informal as you want it to be. It doesn’t have to follow a particular format, and it doesn’t have to take place at a funeral home, crematorium or cemetery.

In fact, one of the wonderful things about a celebration of life is that there are no rules about where or when it has to happen.

It could be held in a beautiful garden, at a favourite restaurant, in a village hall, at a family home, beside the sea, in a place that held special memories or somewhere completely unexpected.

It could take place a few days after someone dies, several weeks later or even months afterwards.

It can be a private gathering for the closest family and friends, or a larger occasion bringing together everyone who knew and loved them.

The important thing is that the place, the timing and the atmosphere feel right for the person being remembered.

A celebration of life doesn’t necessarily need to take place alongside a burial or cremation.

For some families, the funeral and the celebration of life may be two separate occasions.

The burial or cremation can take place privately, perhaps with only the closest family present, while a larger celebration of life can be held later when everyone has had time to come together.

This can be particularly helpful when family and friends are travelling from different parts of the country or from overseas.

It can also give everyone the opportunity to plan something that truly reflects the person, rather than trying to organise everything during those difficult first few days following a death.

There is no set timetable for remembering someone.

You can take your time.

The word celebration can sometimes feel strange when someone has died.

How can we possibly celebrate when we’re grieving?

But celebrating a life doesn’t mean ignoring the sadness.

It means recognising that sadness is only one part of the story.

A person may have lived for 50, 60, 70, 80 or more years. They may have filled those years with love, laughter, friendships, family, adventures, achievements and experiences.

There may be stories that make everyone laugh every time they are told.

There may be music that instantly reminds you of them.

There may be photographs that bring back an entire chapter of your lives.

There may be food they loved, places they couldn’t stop talking about, phrases they always used or little habits that drove everyone mad but that you would give anything to see again.

These are the things worth remembering.

A celebration of life can include tears, of course, but it can also include smiles, laughter and moments of genuine joy.

And sometimes laughing together is one of the most comforting ways of remembering someone.

This is where I believe a celebrant can make a real difference.

When I create a celebration-of-life ceremony, I don’t simply ask for someone’s dates of birth and a list of their achievements.

I want to discover the person behind the facts.

I spend time talking with family and friends and asking questions.

What were they really like?

What made them laugh?

What did they love?

What were they passionate about?

What were they famous for within the family?

What were their quirks?

Where did they feel happiest?

Who were the people who mattered most to them?

What stories do you find yourself telling again and again?

What will you miss most?

And perhaps most importantly:

What made them them?

Sometimes a seemingly small detail can tell us more about someone than a whole list of achievements.

It might be the way they always made tea.

Their terrible dancing.

Their obsession with a particular football team.

The holiday tradition they refused to give up.

The nickname only their family used.

The way they could never walk past a dog without saying hello.

Those details bring personality into a ceremony.

Once I’ve listened, asked questions and gathered the stories, I use those memories to build a ceremony that is completely personal to that individual.

There might be music, readings, poems, photographs, family tributes or moments of reflection.

There might also be laughter.

The ceremony might tell their story from childhood through to later life, or it might focus on the people, passions and experiences that mattered most to them.

It doesn’t have to sound formal.

It doesn’t have to sound like anyone else’s funeral.

It should sound like them.

My role is to take everything you have shared with me and carefully weave it together into a ceremony that reflects their personality, their relationships and the life they lived.

Every person is different.

Every family is different.

And every farewell should be different too.

Some families will want something quiet and traditional. Others will want something full of stories, music, laughter and colour.

There is no right or wrong.

What matters is that the ceremony feels authentic and gives you the opportunity to remember the person you loved in a way that feels right for you.

Because while losing someone is undoubtedly one of life’s hardest experiences, their death doesn’t erase everything that came before it.

Their stories remain.

Their memories remain.

Their influence remains.

And the love you shared remains.

A celebration of life is an opportunity to bring those things together, to remember not just how someone died, but how wonderfully they lived.