There's a moment that happens in nearly every estate planning meeting. We've worked through the assets, we've talked about the children, we've back-and-forthed over who will be the executor, we've divided up the Die Pie, and then we get to the bit about what we're going to do with your body when you're no longer in need of it. For some people, this is the easiest part of our conversation; they know exactly who, what and when. For others, it's the undoing of them.
Many years ago, when I was a young, briefcase-carrying, high-heel wearing, "real" lawyer I used to rush people past this part of their estate plan. If I'm honest, I figured everyone did the same thing: contact their local funeral director, get the body collected, pick the coffin, choose the cheapest handles, make a photo montage, have some stale biscuits and a lukewarm cuppa... you get the drill.
Then something shifted, and more and more as we got to this part in proceedings, people started saying "I don't want a funeral, Fiona....Just get me cremated and put the ashes wherever. Don't spend any time. Don't spend any money. I don't want a fuss."
And so, honouring people's wishes, that's what I wrote into their estate plans. Nothing. No fuss. Cheap. Fast. Oh how we'd all laugh when I called it "click and cremate", like the McDonalds of funerals.
And then something I didn't expect happened. People started to come to estate management meetings holding grief in a way that I'd not really witnessed before. Sadness that had nowhere to go. Confusion that they'd followed their loved one's wishes but in doing that had entirely parked their own needs.
I've sat across from enough people to know that what people say in the moment and what they actually mean are rarely the same thing. But it took me way too long to figure out that when people say "I don't want a funeral" they almost never mean please don't care for me after I'm gone.
They almost never mean don't gather other people and grieve collectively, don't have a celebration, or mark this moment. They don't mean if there's something you need to help you in your grief, you should do that thing.
What it almost always means is: I don't want the only version of a funeral I've ever experienced.
You know the kind of funeral I'm talking about. The awkward service in a beige room. The generic eulogy awkwardly read like a CV by a celebrant who never knew the guest of honour. The open casket with Nanna wearing red lipstick. The stiff uniforms that look they belong in an aircraft or Victorian-era cosplay. The people-ing over Arnott's biscuits and cold tea. The sense that everyone is performing or the idea that you're paying for the kind of shindig you'd never in a million years invite guests to.
I'm with you! That's not my idea of a good time either. The problem is that for most people, that's the only funeral they've ever seen.
In my experience, when people say no funeral, they're not rejecting the idea of being honoured. They're not asking their family to grieve alone, in private without ceremony. They're not rejecting the valuable rituals of a funeral or memorial.
What they're actually asking is for people to be spared something that doesn't sit right with them.
That's completely reasonable. But it's often expressed in a way that creates more problems than it solves.
The no-frills approach doesn't take away the grief like you think it might.
There is no legal requirement in Australia to hold a funeral. A direct cremation or private burial is a real, valid, and legally sound choice that I respect and will always respect.
Putting aside my click-and-cremate joke, they're growing in popularity for a reason. People have been calling for changes in the funeral industry for a long time: rejecting cookie-cutter services, being bombarded with confusing decisions, and paying for costly extras.
But in my experience families who follow their loved one's instructions to skip the funeral or memorial often find themselves drowning in grief that has no container: missing the collective recognition of shared grief, not having a space where it's safe to fall apart, to laugh at a shared memory, or to sit with other people who also loved this person. And yes, sometimes a memorial offers collective recognition that this person was difficult, but you all made it out alive.
Humans are ritual-loving creatures, and for millennia we've built rituals around death and grief. Rituals that are sometimes for the dead person, but more often than not are for the people left behind with the grief. When we remove those rituals, the grief doesn't disappear; it simply gets carried differently - heavier, quieter, longer.
Why It's Important To Say What You Really Want
Lately, I've started talking about funeral wishes more deliberately and intentionally in estate planning meetings, not because I want to tell people what to do, but because I want to help people avoid the fallout that happens when grieving people want to respect the wishes of the person they love to "do nothing", while balancing their own needs as a living, grieving person.
Your will is the last opportunity to tell people: this is what I want. This is what I need you to do. This is permission for you to do what you need to do to grieve me and keep living.
Communicating your wishes clearly and thoughtfully is one of the biggest gifts you can give the people you leave behind.
A few things worth thinking through:
What do you actually want? Not what seems convenient, not what costs the least, not the path of least resistance or what you think will be easiest, but what you feel would be meaningful and true to who you are. A direct cremation is fine, so is a bells-and-whistles funeral if that's genuinely your preference. But sit with it. Ask yourself whether your no funeral instruction is a rejection of the experience, or a genuine preference for nothing.
What do the people you love need? You will not be there. But they will and they carry whatever happens (or doesn't happen). Your preferences matter but so do theirs. A good set of funeral wishes holds both realities at the same time.
Who needs to know? Your executor needs to know where your wishes are documented so your family isn't left playing round after round of What The Dead Person Wanted (there are no winners with that game). Surprises in grief are never welcome - nor are arguments between people who are trying to protect both themself and your memory.
What happens practically? Many years ago, I had a client who wanted his whole family to travel to Scotland to scatter his ashes. He talked about it all the time. Made everyone promise to make it a reality. Nobody talked about who would bankroll Kevin's International Ashes Scattering Odyssey, so when it came time to book the tickets and Kevin barely had enough in his estate for one family to catch a Greyhound bus to Melbourne, and every family member with different financial circumstances - they all ended up arguing about the reality of fulfilling his final wishes. When you make a plan, make sure you make the kind of plan, people can actually make good on (read more HERE.
The middle ground
Over the past few months, my after-death-care team and I have been hard at work finding other good humans in the death space who we can partner with to help our clients bridge the gap between a traditional bells and whistles funeral and, well, nothing.
From where I sit, that middle ground is a service that allows families the time and space to make heart-led decisions. It means having a professional handle the complexities and logistics of mortuary care and paperwork while supporting them to plan a celebration, ritual, or gathering. It's creating a moment that's deeply personal, unique, and something the guest of honour would be excited to invite people to (with lots of wine and without unnecessary expense) at a place that has meaning.
If you don't know that's a possibility, it's easy to say "nothing".
Estate planning is an act of love. Every decision you make is a way of saying that you care about what life looks like for the people you leave behind.
Funeral wishes are part of that. They're not morbid. They're not unnecessary. They're not something to leave to your family to figure out because you don't care. They're one of the most generous things you can include in your estate plan, because they remove the weight of decision-making from your family while they're in the fog of fresh grief.
If you'd like to include funeral wishes in your estate plan, or would like help creating a letter of wishes for your family so they can gather and grieve in a way that honours you and them, we'd love to help.
I'm super excited to be partnering with Tomorrow Funerals to bring their genuinely unique style of memorials to Adelaide. No rush, no rigid rule book, no impersonal service, no trying to figure it out by yourself. Just good humans, doing good work, helping families find the kind of farewell that fits. Together, we're sticking the middle finger up to corporate same-old-same-old and disruptor robots who have forgotten there are real, actual humans on the other end of the line.
Additional resources: you can download your own copy of the Dream Dead Person Funeral Plan to add to your estate planning folder.
The contents of this article is general information only and does not constitute legal or financial advice. It is not intended to be a substitute for either and should not be relied upon as such. You should seek independent professional advice in relation to your specific circumstances.