My journey with grief

It wasn’t until Lianna Champ experienced it herself, that she understood what it meant…

- MISHAAL KHAN

Standing at the podium, I look out at a sea of faces and prepare to speak, carefully choosing my words, conscious there are people present who’ve lost a loved one. ‘There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, and there are no set stages to follow,’ I say. It’s November 2019, and I’m giving a talk at a gala dinner, for hundreds of people from the local community. I’m a grief recovery specialist, funeral director and civil funeral celebrant, and frequently speak at events, sharing my knowledge and experience.

Since I was nine, I knew what I wanted to do. ‘I’m going to be an undertaker,’ I told my mum, Margaret, then 43. I’d never been to a funeral, I just knew that it was their job to help grieving families and support them through their sadness and loss, and that seemed like a kind thing to do. At school, I was teased in the playground: ‘Morticia! You want to work with dead people – that’s disgusting!’ they taunted.

At 15, I was still set on my chosen profession, but Mum, in a bid to put me off, rang the local funeral director and arranged a visit one Saturday in September 1979. I was taken straight into the mortuary, where I saw a dead body for the first time. I was fascinated as I watched the embalming process, firing questions and watching closely. By the end of the day, I was gloved up and assisting, and any efforts by Mum to discourage me had failed miserably.

In 1981, aged 17, I went for work experience at a local funeral parlour. Predominantly a man’s job, it wasn’t easy to convince the company to give me a chance, but seeing my determination, they created a youth training programme.