Doing Death Differently – image supplied by Olivia Andrews.
Early one spring morning, at 19, my world was turned upside down when I discovered my boyfriend had died from a drug overdose. For months, I’d been dreaming about calling 000, but the line always went dead. When I found him, that moment played out again, only this time, the call connected—and so did the reality. As I sat, curled up on the loungeroom floor, the paramedic’s gently assertive but deafening words—”He’s dead, love”—pierced my heart and shattered me into a trillion pieces.
What followed was unimaginable pain—traumatic and complicated grief, accompanied by decades of guilt for not preventing it. It was a sobering realisation that none of us are invincible, that life is far more fragile than we ever want to believe. My lifelong curiosity about this thing called “death” began to germinate.
Back then, at the turn of the century—even more so than today—’death’, in every sense of the word, was unspeakable. It felt excruciatingly lonely. The D-word had been so removed from our vernacular that it was easy to believe it only happened to others.
Fast-forward a couple of decades, and one of my closest friends was diagnosed with terminal cancer—a melanoma that had metastasised, attacking her spine and brain. I thought I understood death, that I could handle it, that I had been handling it. But the reality was, I wasn’t prepared for the dying part. Just over a year after her diagnosis, we lost her at age 49. That was a year I can never get back—no do-overs, no second chances to make things right.
After 20 years in the food media industry, and following what I call a rather significant mid-life moment, I decided to hang up my apron and pursue a new path.
When I tell people what I’ve decided to do—work in end-of-life support and death care—their eyes tend to dart in every direction except into mine. It’s as though talking about death is still too ‘out there,’ too niche, too uncomfortable—as if it’s somehow contagious. But there is hope. The conversation around death is starting to change.
I believe we’re at the precipice of a major shift in how we, as Australians, approach death and the end-of-life journey. With shows like SBS’s The Last Goodbye with Ray Martin bringing conversations about death into the mainstream, we’re seeing more openness to discussing these previously taboo subjects.
I would love to be part of the change—a change that resonates with all of us. Because the reality, as cold and shocking as it is, is that death will inevitably touch each one of us. Just like birth, death is a natural and normal part of life, but while we celebrate birth, we often avoid or try to forget about death—it often becomes an afterthought, something we push aside until we can’t anymore. This avoidance does a disservice not just to those at the end of their lives, but to us all.
My journey in end-of-life support began with End-of-Life Doula training, but truly took shape as a volunteer Palliative Biographer for St. Vincent’s Sacred Heart in Sydney. This biography program was a pioneering initiative in Australia, providing palliative care patients the opportunity to have their life stories documented—a practice that has since inspired similar programs across the country. This role is deeply rewarding—helping individuals capture their stories as they near the end of their lives is a gift, both for them and for their families who are left with these cherished memories. I believe everyone has a story worth telling, and offering that through biography has been one of the most powerful ways to honour a life.
Since then, I’ve taken on the role of Funeral Director and Celebrant, co-founding Inner West Funerals with Kerri Mills, who was born and raised in Orange. We work in partnership with Picaluna Funerals, ensuring every farewell is as unique as the life it celebrates. In addition to my role as a Palliative Biographer, I wanted to bring that same sense of individuality to my funeral work.
You don’t have to stick to the traditional chapel or cemetery service. These days, almost anything is possible. As long as we’re honouring the life and respecting the family’s wishes, we do everything we can to create memorable services that offer healing when it’s needed most.
● Home Vigils: With the support of an End-of-Life Doula, keeping your loved one at home for a few days after they’ve passed allows for a more intimate farewell, where family and friends can visit, share memories, and mourn together.
● Decorating the Coffin: During the ceremony, guests can decorate the coffin with messages, drawings, or flowers, turning it into a deeply personal tribute.
● Favourite Locations: Families are increasingly choosing venues outside of churches or chapels—local parks, community clubs, beaches, or even at home offer meaningful and personal settings for farewells.
● Sustainable and Eco-conscious Funerals: More families are starting to explore eco-conscious options, such as biodegradable coffins, natural burials, or creating lasting tributes through conservation burials, such as Walawaani Way (where I’m proud to be a representative for the Greater Sydney region).
● Live Music or Sound Healing: Incorporating live music—whether it’s a jazz or brass band, singing, or even sound healing—can create a peaceful, reflective atmosphere that’s unique to the person being celebrated.
● Memory Sharing or Pop Quizzes: Encourage everyone to write down their favourite memory, or even host a lighthearted quiz about the person’s life to spark joyful stories and laughter.
● Living Wakes: A unique option where the person is surrounded by their loved ones before they pass, sharing stories and celebrating life together. It’s something I’d choose for myself—there’s a deep sense of connection and meaning in being able to say goodbye while you’re still here.
Planning for the inevitable isn’t just about legal documents or medical instructions—it’s about honouring who you are and the life you’ve lived. Our End of Life Wishes service gives you the chance to make sure your final moments reflect what’s truly important to you.
But you don’t need a formal service to start thinking about it. Anyone can do it—all you need is a pen, paper, and a moment of reflection. It’s never too early to jot down your thoughts and share them with those closest to you. What’s most important is that your wishes are known.
What would bring you comfort at the end of your life?
● Would you prefer to be at home, surrounded by loved ones, or in a special place that holds deep meaning?
● How would you want your funeral or memorial to be? A gathering in nature? A celebration of life with music and stories?
● Are there specific traditions, songs, or rituals that speak to who you are?
By capturing these details, you can feel reassured that your final farewell will not only reflect your wishes
but also bring peace and clarity to your loved ones during a difficult time.
Bringing It All Together: Diary of a Funeral Director
As I continue to learn and grow in this space, I’ll be sharing the stories, reflections, and insights I gather along the way through Diary of a Funeral Director, my new project. Being part of that final chapter—helping people honour life in death—is one of the greatest privileges of this work, and I look forward to sharing more about how we can approach death with meaning, compassion, and creativity.
If you’re curious to explore this journey with me, join me as I continue to navigate this evolving landscape, honouring not only the people we love but also the planet we share.
Olivia Andrews Insta: @diaryofafuneraldirector and @oliviandrews
Image supplied by Olivia Andrews, Celebration of life and Doing death differently.
