For most of us, a funeral is something we rarely think about until life forces us to. When it does, we often approach it with the same mixture of dread, confusion and practicality that accompanies any overwhelming moment: What do we do? Who do we call? What did “they” want? And does any of this really matter?
In recent years, the rise of direct cremations has intensified those questions. Funeral companies advertise streamlined, fuss-free, “no ceremony needed” options and, for many families under financial strain or for the elderly not wanting to “make a fuss”, the promise of simplicity can feel like a relief.
But the perceived simplicity hides an important truth: funerals matter, profoundly.
And according to Judith Dandy, DiP FS LM BIFD, Founder of Dandelion Farewells, if we misunderstand the role of a funeral, we may be cutting away something vital from our emotional, relational and cultural lives.
What is direct cremation?
The funeral world has been irrevocably altered by direct cremation. At its most stripped back, direct cremation means no one accompanies the coffin, there is no service and no witnesses. It sometimes also means that there is no time is spent with the person and no marking of the moment.
Judith has no objection to this format in itself. “We’ve always offered it,” she says. But she is worried about the messaging surrounding this type of cremation and the impact on us as individuals and as a community.
Beware the messaging
Tens of millions of pounds were spent on advertising direct cremation during and after COVID. Older people sitting at home saw constant adverts telling them: “Don’t be a fuss. Save your family money. Keep it simple.”
That may genuinely suit some people and in those cases, that decision should be respected. But we need to consider the cultural message it is sending to older generations. A message that can be painfully persuasive. That their death is an inconvenience? That their existence doesn’t warrant gathering, ritual, care, or presence?
“We would never say that to a young parent. We would never say that after a tragedy. So why do we say it to older people?” Judith reflects. “Funeral care is at risk of becoming just a conveyor belt. A body is taken from the hospital or mortuary to the crematorium, cremated, and no one is there.”
And Judith’s concern goes far beyond the messaging.
Not just an event, but a human need
Judith understands death through the combined lenses of bereavement theory, hospice work, social care and more than a decade working as an undertaker. From that perspective, she is clear: funerals are not simply administrative milestones. They meet a deep human need.
Modern Western culture often encourages us to minimise ritual. We value speed, convenience and “not making a fuss.” We are taught to keep emotions contained and to move on quickly. But Judith argues that ritual is not about superstition or sentimentality, it is important psychology.
“Humans have always gathered in times of loss. We gather to mourn, to speak, to acknowledge, to mark a moment in time. We have always gathered as people.”
A funeral, she explains, is not about closure, a word she feels is too neat and too final for something as complex as grief. Instead, it acts as a marker in time. A collective pause that says: this has happened, and we feel this way about it.
“Someone lived. Someone mattered. And now something has changed.”
“A good service creates space,” Judith says. “You will still ebb and flow into grief afterwards, of course you will, but you’ve acknowledged something. You’ve done something meaningful.” Without that space, grief can diffuse. It may surface later as anxiety, low mood, disconnection or a sense of unfinished emotional business. Without ritual, people can feel unanchored.
“Ritual matters, even when we think it doesn’t,” she says. “We’ve always lived with a ritual year: birthdays, anniversaries, harvest, Easter, Christmas. These rituals weren’t arbitrary. They had a psychological purpose.”
Funerals aren’t only for the closest family
We also don’t attend funerals only out of personal grief; we attend out of collective respect.
When someone dies in a community, their value doesn’t rest solely in the hands of those closest to them. Colleagues, neighbours, members of a choir or sports club, people whose lives intersected with theirs in small but meaningful ways, all of them may feel something, even if they weren’t intimately attached. A funeral gives all those people a place to stand.
“It’s a congregation,” Judith says. “Not in the religious sense, though it can be, but in the human sense. It’s a group of people gathered around an event that matters.” Even if the service is simple, even if the coffin isn’t present, even if the gathering is small, the act of coming together still carries emotional weight.
A funeral doesn’t have to be traditional; it has to be true
One of Judith’s greatest strengths is her ability to help families shape a farewell that feels right for them, rather than defaulting to what is expected. For some, that may be a church service with a full liturgy. For others, it may be a woodland burial in driving rain, a jazz procession, a gathering in a village hall, a quiet moment at home with readings, or a celebration of life followed by cremation.
Dandelion Farewells: A Personal Approach to Sussex Funeral Care
“There are hundreds of options within burial and cremation,” Judith says. “Most people have no idea how much choice they actually have.”
The point, she stresses, is not the format. It is whether the farewell feels honest, intentional and compassionate, something that reflects the person who has died and supports those who are grieving.
This philosophy also underpins Judith’s approach to direct cremation, which she refers to as a Simple Farewell. While some providers treat direct cremation as a purely logistical transaction, Judith believes connection should never be removed by default.
Even without a formal service, families may choose to spend time with the person in the family room, provide clothing, place photographs or letters in the coffin, or be present before the coffin is closed. Some may wish to follow the journey to the crematorium; others may not.
“Nothing is pressured,” Judith explains. “There will be times when people don’t want any of this and that’s absolutely fine. But they should be offered the choice.”
For Judith, even the smallest moments of ritual, a hand placed on the coffin, a letter tucked inside, a few quiet minutes together, can make a profound difference. The form may be simple, but the meaning does not have to be.
“These things matter,” she says. “They allow people to feel connected. They allow grief to begin its work.”
If you’re curious, have questions, or simply want to understand your options, Dandelion Farewells offers space for conversation, without pressure, expectation or urgency.
If you’d like to know more about Dandelion Farewells and their thoughtful and considerate approach, visit Dandelion Farewells
