Releasing Doves for Joyce Spillett

I met with Joyce’s family on a wild and stormy Sunday afternoon. Our original venue fell through at the last minute, there simply weren’t enough tables for everyone, so we shifted to the local tavern. By some small miracle, we managed to gather around two long tables tucked away in a quiet corner, just enough space for the eight adults and a few children to sit together.

There was something beautifully fitting about it: the rain lashing outside, the hum of the pub around us, and this big, loving family gathered close over bowls of chips and drinks. As we settled in, the stories began to flow: memories from the farm, tales of hard work, humour, resilience, and the unmistakable mark Joyce and her husband left on everyone who knew them.

It truly felt like the end of an era for this family, a closing chapter in a long and meaningful family story. Between the laughter and the tears, what emerged most clearly was the deep respect and affection they all held for their mum and family story. Sitting together in that unexpected little corner of the tavern, sharing memories as the storm rolled over and out to the ocean, we created a space that felt both intimate and heartfelt, exactly the kind of beginning needed to shape a ceremony that honours a life well lived.

“On behalf of Joyce’s family, I welcome you here and thank you for joining us. Today is a time to share stories, to laugh and cry, to listen to some of her favourite music, and to sit with the truth that Joyce’s life and the way in which she lived her life, mattered deeply to you.

You come together in the shock of what none of you expected or were ready for, Joyce’s life ending so suddenly, when she was still living at home, still being herself, still doing things her way. It’s a hard moment to take in, and it’s natural to wish it were different, to wish there’d been more time. However, you can imagine your mum, your nan, being quite stoic about it and telling you, as her friend told her, ‘there’s no point being silly about it; we’re all going to die one day’.  She was, after all, a farmer’s wife in the truest sense, practical, steady, hands always busy, and knew the cycles of the natural world and knew how to get on with it. Yet, your grief is embedded into this celebration of her life, for that is the love you feel and have for her.

You are here to support one another as you face this new landscape without her physical presence. I also recognise what it means to witness the closing of an era; the partnership of Joyce and Ben, and their creation of the family home and farm. They built a life together in the way country people do: with work, loyalty, shared routines, and a deep connection to the land and river that shaped their days. I want to acknowledge the depth of feeling that comes with these transitions: the grief, the gratitude, the memories, and the strength that continues through all of you. This is a challenging and sacred time of change.

Let us hear now from Joyce’s family who will share the eulogy and tributes, a chance to hear Joyce through the voices she loved so much.”

After the close of the ceremony the family wanted to release four doves. I wove the details of where, when, how and why into the closing words after the Words of Remembrance.