In the quiet aftermath of loss, a final, tangible responsibility often remains unfulfilled. For many across the UK, the act of collecting and scattering a loved one's ashes becomes an insurmountable hurdle, a physical manifestation of grief that is too heavy to lift. Award-winning author Nova Weetman shares her deeply personal story of this struggle, having lost her partner in 2020 and yet to collect his ashes from the funeral home.
The Paralysing Weight of Unfinished Business
Weetman's partner died during the pandemic lockdowns, a period that compounded the already arduous administrative tasks following a death. Letters in the deceased's name continue to arrive, forcing repeated, painful explanations to companies, while the sight of an unpaid bill can trigger fresh waves of sorrow. Organising a funeral or cremation amidst this bureaucratic storm is utterly exhausting, leaving little emotional capacity for the next step: deciding what to do with the ashes.
Statistics show a significant majority of people now opt for cremation, making it logical to assume most have plans for their remains. Yet, as Weetman notes, many do not, leaving the decision to the grieving. The desire to honour the person we love by scattering their ashes in a meaningful, approved place becomes an overwhelming responsibility at a time when getting out of bed is a daily achievement.
Contrasting Experiences and Changing Perspectives
Weetman reflects on the clearer process following her mother's death. Her ashes were scattered at a bend on Williamstown beach in Melbourne, a place central to her childhood and family memory. However, her father later admitted to scattering a portion in his front garden, an act that initially upset Weetman, feeling it separated her mother.
This experience led her to vow she would leave strict instructions for her own remains. Ironically, as she has grown older and closer to death herself, she finds herself uncertain about these final steps, highlighting how perspectives on death and ritual evolve.
Opening the Conversation on Death and Ritual
A shift in generational attitudes is emerging. Weetman observes her daughter, who is studying a university arts subject called 'Death'. Part of her assessment involves planning her own funeral service. Far from being morbid, this open academic discourse has demystified the topic. At just 20, she can knowledgeably discuss the environmental impact of cremation versus burial, the ritual of washing the body, and alternatives like shrouds. This represents a move away from secrecy towards practical, informed conversation about end-of-life wishes.
For Weetman, the catalyst to finally collect her partner's ashes came only when her father's ashes, who died in January of the previous year, came to rest in her office. Stored in a box of family photographs, she found comfort in his presence, even chatting to him while she worked. This made her consider that she would like the two men she loved to be in close proximity, offering each other company in spirit.
After cancelling a prior appointment at the funeral home, she rebooked. This time, determined not to cancel, she faced the final step, concluding that there is no universal timeline for grief and that storing ashes at home can be a valid, comforting choice in the absence of a definitive plan. The journey through bereavement, she shows, is deeply personal, and the management of physical remains is just one part of its complex, non-linear path.
