All the Small Things
More than a Blink-182 anthem
Ever since I started in this work, I’ve looked to push boundaries – that’s why I’m the Mortal Rebel.
I’m not a “traditional” funeral celebrant. I’m the one the Funeral Directors call when they’ve met a family who want to do things a bit differently. And I’m always the one who looks for the small details – the real-life stuff – to make a service creative, personal, and true.
Whether that’s suggesting alternatives to flowers to top the coffin (think a snowboard and boots, a stack of sci-fi novels, or someone’s favourite hats), creating bespoke memory bags for families to take away, or just wearing the person’s favourite colour – those touches matter.
My Two Personal Red Lines
There are only two things I’ve ever said I wouldn’t do at a funeral.
Not rules, really – more like personal red lines. Boundaries that keep me grounded so I can give everything else fully and without hesitation.
One: Religion and Ritual
Although 99% of my funerals are non-religious, I am an ordained minister. And I won’t lead prayers or rituals from a religion I’m not part of. Not because I don’t respect them – I do, deeply. But those moments deserve someone who truly understands them. I’ll help you find that person, of course – but it shouldn’t be me pretending I can do something sacred that isn’t mine.
Two: The One Thing I’d Never Wear
I’ve always said I would never wear a Newcastle United shirt.
Because I’m a diehard Sunderland supporter. Born into it, shaped by it, proud of it. And if you’re from the North East, you’ll understand: it’s not just sport – it’s tribal, emotional, baked into your DNA. You just don’t cross that line.
Breaking My Own Rule
But this week, I broke that second rule.
Because this week, we said goodbye to Bryan.
Bryan wasn’t just my dad’s friend – he was my friend too. A proper Geordie gent. Warm, funny, loyal, totally devoted to Newcastle United. I was talking to his wife, Marie, about the service, and somehow – without her asking, without planning – I found myself offering to wear a black and white shirt.
Once I’d said it, there was no going back.
So during the service, I slipped a Newcastle top over the outfit I was already wearing. I mean, I couldn’t let it touch my skin – but I wore it. For Bryan. Because it felt right. Because it felt real.
(And no, I won’t confirm or deny whether I had my Sunderland oddball undies on underneath…)
Why The Small Things Matter
Because funerals are not about us.
They’re about them – the person who has died. The lives they lived. And the love that’s left behind.
It’s easy to focus on the “big” stuff – the venue, the music, the flowers, the coffin. But I’ve come to believe it’s the small things – the personal, thoughtful details – that make a funeral truly meaningful.
The nods. The in-jokes. The sweets in your pocket. The colour of your socks. The quiet traditions that live on after someone’s gone.
Those are the moments that tell the truth.
That spark recognition.
That make people smile – or cry – or both at once.
I’ve seen it again and again.
Once, I wore a full white Elvis jumpsuit to conduct a funeral. There was no family there. Just me, the Funeral Director, and a man who’d lived a life most people never really noticed. And at the end of the service, I said:
“xxx has left the building.”
Because it gave the moment dignity. Because it felt true. Because it said: someone knew who you were – and you mattered.
In planning another very recent funeral, I met two adults whose dad used to give them Tootie Frooties every Sunday when they were little. A tiny, affectionate tradition. They mentioned it in passing – but I could hear how much it meant. I searched high and low (turns out they’ve been discontinued!), but thankfully, a traditional sweetshop near me had a similar version. So I gave them each a bag at the funeral.
A small, crinkly paper bag that said: I see you. You are remembered.
None of these were grand gestures. But they were real.
And that’s what people want when they say goodbye.
Not perfection. Not performance.
Just truth, held gently.
Bending the Boundaries for What Matters
So yes – I’ve got my boundaries. But I also believe they’re worth bending when love, memory, or a bit of mischief calls for it.
You might have guessed that this Mortal Rebel has a soft spot for mischief.
So you’ll find me blurring the lines now and then, if it helps someone feel seen or known. But it’ll have to be a really special case to get me into a Newcastle shirt again.
Rest easy, Bryan.
And thank you, Marie – for the trust, and the laughter.
—
Emma x
The Mortal Rebel
🖤⚪❤️
#TheMortalRebel #DyingToHelp #FuneralsThatFeelReal
If You’re Planning a Funeral…
Or even just thinking about how you’d like to be remembered –
don’t underestimate the power of the little things.
Tell someone what matters to you.
What makes you laugh.
What sweets you used to love.
What colour you want people to wear.
What song isn’t allowed, no matter what.
Because when the time comes, those small things will speak the loudest.
And if you ever need someone to help hold all of that – you know where to find me.
And for my paid subscribers, you get a sneak peek at this Mackem heart breaking as she donned that foul barcode shirt…
