Football, curry and a few beers. Sounds more like a Saturday evening out than a funeral, but this was very much my experience at a funeral I attended recently. Since then I’ve been thinking about what a celebration of life really is and what my own funeral might like look one day.
I’ve known Darren about ten years, playing for the same over-35’s football team and both increasingly dragging our slightly out of shape and ageing bodies around the football pitch purely for the love of still playing.
Darren was a good player, a central defender. He wasn’t scared to put a tackle in but he was also the first one to shake hands and always enjoyed a beer and a few laughs after the game.
We’re fortunate that every spring one of our team mates organises a game at a professional football ground somewhere across the country. With trips recently to Portsmouth, Nottingham (Forest and County), Leicester, Derby and more, Darren was always the life and soul of these little trips, both on the pitch and later in the evening on the dancefloor at a local nightclub, shocked by the attendance of a large group of 40-somethings arriving at the door.
As team mates had birthday parties or got married, Darren and his wife Steph were always on the dancefloor or trying to convince us all that some exotic gin and tonic flavouring was a must try for the night. Both Darren and Steph were Police Officers, so there always seemed some hilarity in them leading the festivities!
So, at only 46 it was a shock to hear that Darren had suffered a stroke. And more of a shock still to hear a week later that there was nothing more that could be done and Darren’s life support was to be switched off.
The day Darren died, the team had a game scheduled that evening. We set about postponing the match in respect and honour of our much-loved team mate. But Steph and Darren’s teenage children wouldn’t have it. “Darren loved football, he would want you to play.” So we did. With a moment of silence and flowers laid in the centre of the pitch, Steph and the kids even came along for some of the game, wanting to be close to something that was so much a part of Darren’s life.
And that very much set the tone for what ended in an incredible celebration of Darren’s life. I’ve never been to another funeral like it, and the experience certainly left me thinking about my own.
There were around 200 people crammed into the Crematorium for Darren’s funeral, his coffin arriving through a police guard of honour, including police dogs. Quite a moving site.
His son, who looks just like him, and young daughter spoke so bravely about their memories but also the things they will miss in the future, not having Dad there on their wedding day for example. A room full of police officers and football friends moved to tears.
It was the Wake though that really has me thinking about a celebration of life.
Off to a local football club for a game. Darren’s team versus a police team. We walked out to Glad All Over, the Crystal Palace anthem – Darren was a season ticket holder – with hundreds of people in the stands.
As we kicked off the game a rainbow appeared across the sky. It had to be Darren, surely.
A lovely togetherness all around the pitch… some laughter at the inevitable mistakes or someone falling over, and some good old cheering every time a goal was scored. Darren’s son played for both teams and his daughter played a few minutes too (still in her dress and barefoot on the cold grass).
You can’t help yourself if you love football, it got competitive. Of course. But that is exactly what Darren would have wanted.
After the game Steph had asked that we ditch the shirts and tie’s so we came back for the rest of the Wake in shorts and t-shirts. Darren always wore shorts, rain or shine.
We tucked in to a curry (Darren’s favourite) and a few beers in the clubhouse. Still hundreds of people present, including Darren’s parents.
The music was cranked up and we shared memories and stories of Darren, surrounded by photos of him.
It did feel strange to not be sad, for it to be loud, for it to be happy. But that was 100% Darren. He would have loved to see all those people together, his friends, family and work colleagues. And he would have laughed at us all in our shorts, in his memory.
So, as I think about what a celebration of life is and what a funeral has to be, I am so aware now that there are no rules, there is no right or wrong way.
This day was so very Darren and that was what made it special.
Rest in peace Dazza. Forever 46
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:: This article was originally published in issue 5 of St Christopher’s Connect magazine, to read the full issue. To read
the full magazine, or to sign up to receive future editions, please click here.
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