Not just when they were born or where they worked.
Tell me what they were really like.
What made them laugh?
What did they love?
What drove everybody mad about them?
What did they always say?
What music did they play far too loudly?
What story gets told every Christmas, even though everyone in the family has heard it a hundred times?
Those are the things I want to know.
Because a funeral shouldn't simply tell us that somebody lived.
It should remind us who they were.
For a long time, funerals tended to follow a familiar pattern.
But your family doesn't have to have a religious service because that's what has always been done. Equally, if faith, prayer or tradition mattered to the person who has died, there is absolutely a place for that too.
A funeral can be religious, non-religious or somewhere in between.
It can include hymns and prayers.
It can include The Beatles, The Killers or their favourite song that nobody else in the family can stand.
There can be readings, poetry, photographs, stories and moments of reflection.
There can even be laughter.
Especially laughter.
Because remembering somebody doesn't mean we can only remember the sad parts.
When we meet, I'm not looking for enough facts to fill twenty minutes.
I want to understand the person.
I'll ask questions. I'll listen to your stories. I'll probably ask about things you hadn't even considered mentioning.
Sometimes it's a tiny detail that tells me more about somebody than an entire page of dates and achievements.
Then I'll take what you've trusted me with and create a ceremony that feels personal, honest and recognisably them.
And before the day, you'll know what I'm going to say. Nothing important gets sprung on you unexpectedly.
That's completely fine.
Most families don't arrive with a funeral ceremony planned out in their heads.
You may know exactly which songs they would have wanted but have absolutely no idea about readings.
You might want somebody in the family to speak but aren't sure they'll be able to manage it on the day.
You might simply be overwhelmed by everything that's happened.
That's part of what I'm there for.
I'll help you work through the ceremony, offer ideas where they're useful and take some of the pressure away.
And if somebody desperately wants to deliver a tribute but can't face it when the moment comes, I'll be there to read it for them.
This matters to me.
A funeral isn't a performance.
It's a room full of people saying goodbye to somebody they cared about.
There may be tears. Someone may laugh at completely the wrong moment. A family member might struggle to finish a reading.
That's human.
My job is to hold the ceremony together, give people the space they need and make sure the person at the centre of it is remembered properly.
That's something you'll probably know after we've spoken.
You need to feel comfortable with your celebrant. You're trusting somebody with stories, memories and sometimes incredibly personal parts of your family's life.
So before worrying about anything else, let's have a conversation.
Tell me who you've lost.
Tell me what made them special.
Tell me the stories that still make you smile.
And together, we'll make sure their goodbye sounds like them.
"A life isn't remembered by the day it ends, but by the stories, the laughter and the love it leaves behind."