Nicola Graydon Harris, co-author of The Ancestral Continuum, argues that we should revise how we think of death for the sake of our loved ones who have gone before us and who come after us.

How would we live if we knew for certain that our consciousness continued to exist after our hearts stopped beating?

Would we pay more attention to our death if we had proof that our souls survived the cessation of brain activity? What kind of funeral would we plan for ourselves if we might actually be in attendance? We would probably live our lives very differently, prepare for our death a little bit more and, at the very least, organize a playlist for our funeral…and for this and other advice on making our funerals more fitting to our lives we have My Last Song to thank.

A new book which I co-authored, The Ancestral Continuum, urges us to consider – in ways outside usual religious dogma – life after death with enough real stories and anecdotes to open the mind to the possibility.

Kathy Eldon, for example, recalls visiting a medium under a false name after her photojournalist son was killed in Somalia at just 22. She was sceptical until the medium told her that a vibrant, young spirit kept banging on about some young female who appeared to be trapped in a darkened room under heavy material. Kathy was bemused until the medium said that the woman’s name was Desiree. ‘That was the name he gave to his beloved Land Rover,’ Kathy recalled how she laughed and cried at the same time, ‘and she was under canvas in the garage.’

There is a more ethereal testimony from Aggie, an NHS nurse who recalls seeing the spirits of the dead floating above the living at burial ceremonies. ‘They look like shimmering figures,’ she says, ‘and remain attached to each other by cords of light until the cords are cut at the end of the ceremony.’

But mostly there are numerable stories from perfectly normal people about potent dreams and strange synchronicities that seem to come directly from deceased loved ones.  Of course, none of us can know what happens when we die until we’ve actually been there but, to paraphrase Carl Jung, better to go towards our death believing in something other than the black void of oblivion. And then, maybe, we will plan for the inevitable so it’s the ending we want…planning our exit strategy as my friends at My Last Song call their mission.

At the heart of The Ancestral Continuum lies a call to reconnect with our ancestral heritage. Whether that is an emotional or spiritual connection, there are immense riches to be found in understanding those who have lived and died before us. It places us within the context of a complex narrative that speaks to us of who we are and gives us clues to where we might be going.

Most cultures around the world maintain a faithful relationship with their ancestors: from altars in Vietnamese restaurants to graveside picnics in Mexico during the Day of the Dead; the honouring of ancestors before each American Indian ceremony, to ancestral reverence in Zulu, Shona, Xhosa traditions in Southern Africa, as well as similar respect to their forefathers in most of that ancient, mysterious continent. It appears that our ancestors have been uniquely discarded by Western culture.

Is that because of our fear of death, despite its inevitability? From the moment that we are born we move inexorably towards our death and yet most of the Western world behave as though it doesn’t exist. Most of us will die in hospital surrounded by tubes and machines yet it wasn’t so long ago that, living in multi-generational households, children would experience the death of a grandparent in the family home. Have we lost the sacredness of this profound moment as we desperately cling to life?

Today, while 70 per cent of people say that they would rather die at home surrounded by friends and family, only 18 per cent actually do. Dying at home requires preparation and forward planning. It commits us to make a choice and be sure that our loved ones know that is what we want, and for younger loved ones to know how their ailing relatives want to die, and not ignore the fact that they surely will.

A ‘good’ death, says the book, makes a happy ancestor and it also makes for a profoundly moving collective experience for family and friends. This can be immensely healing for the dying and the living. And death itself becomes less frightening; more teacher than enemy; more journey than destination. In our dying we can teach others how to live as though our very next breath might be our last.

There are no surprises about the music chosen for Margaret Thatcher’s funeral, for clearly she and her family discussed her demise, which is all too rare due to our society’s still strong taboo about death and dying.

The former Prime Minister didn’t share this irresponsible approach to one of the most important decisions we must take, as she insisted she did not want her body to lie in state or money to be spent on a fly-past. Even if she had dismissed the idea of planning her end of life event, as a past Prime Minister she would have been leaned on to approve her funeral arrangements of which the songs and readings are hugely important elements.

Her staunch Methodism was well known and she often cited Christianity to justify her support for the market economy and capitalism. Her Methodist upbringing will thus be commemorated by Charles Wesley’s hymn Love Divine, All Loves Excelling and her patriotism by the music played at the start and end of the service by a British-only group of composers, and the last hymn, I Vow To Thee My Country.

Lady Thatcher wanted the service to be ‘framed’ by British music, hence the scores by Henry Purcell, Gustav Holst, John Ireland, Herbert Howells, Edward Elgar, Frank Bridge, Charles Stanford, Hubert Parry and Ralph Vaughan Williams. The pieces by Johannes Brahms, Gabriel Faure and Johann Sebastian Bach are excellent choices too.

The order of service features Wordsworth’s Intimations of Immortality and TS Eliot’s Little Gidding.

She also decided that she was to be cremated, which is a break with tradition, and one of which we approve. We would have approved even more had she (or her family) chosen a green funeral and a woodland burial.

While not Thatcherites, most of the My Last Song team are old enough to understand her place in history and admire her courage in standing up to bullies whether the undemocratic trades union bosses holding the country to ransom or the fascist Argentinean military dictator General Galteri invading the Falklands. And on balance we agree that her funeral should reflect her place as a major figure, unlike the political pygmies that followed her as Prime Minister.

My Last Song was created to encourage and support people to plan their own or their loved ones’ funerals so they have the end of life event that best reflect their lives and values.

We have many thousand visitors every month but don’t think these include the Thatchers. Even so, it’s encouraging to know that the family’s planning of Margaret Thatcher’s funeral validates the My Last Song message. For what’s good for former Prime Ministers should be good for the rest of us too.

There was a lot of good sense talked during yesterday’s Westminster Hall end of life care debate, on which the government is consulting at the moment, and in particular when discussing the Liverpool Care Pathway (LCP).

The LCP is designed to manage the withdrawal of unnecessary treatment given to dying patients to relieve suffering, and has been inaccurately reported in the Daily Mail (which seems to enjoy making it readers as anxious as possible) as a state sponsored way of killing the old.

Glyn Davies MP, who sponsored the debate, criticised such poorly informed criticism, without naming the Daily Mail, as shouting ‘Fire’ in a crowded theatre, and said that to abandon the LCP was like “tearing up the Highway Code because there were some bad drivers.”

Sir Tony Baldry MP also spoke sensibly when he said that the NHS wasn’t failing because people died, but failed when they didn’t die well. He stressed the need for improvements in the way medical professionals communicated with dying patients and their families.

Credit must also go to the Shadow Health Secretary Liz Kendall who didn’t oppose this welcome development to the management of end of life but pointed out the LCP was only as good as the teams that used it.

The debate ended with the Health Minister Norman Lamb stating the government’s aim to make all patients’ end of life care as pain free and dignified as possible, and that it was totally unacceptable that patients were put on the Pathway without any notification of the patient’s family.

A vital and as yet overlooked concomitant to the Liverpool Care Pathway is the benefits of the terminally ill and ailing elderly having their own personal death plan, rather as mum’s-to-be have birth plans. Death, after all, is as inevitable as birth.

Filling in a death plan means that the end of life has to be discussed, rather than ignored because it’s awkward, upsetting or embarrassing. And the discussion will inevitably include loved ones, medical professionals and, if appropriate, ministers of religion.

Most importantly, an individual’s death plan will be a properly communicated record which doctors and others involved will, if appropriate, follow so that the patient’s death is as comfortable and comforting as possible. Even if some of the end of life wishes expressed in the death plan are unrealistic, at least the creation of the plan facilitates discussion between the patient, the patient’s family and the those providing the end of life medical care.

My Last Song has created a holistic death plan template which not only addresses medical issues but also other aspects which affect the quality of the end of life experience, such as who the patient wishes to be present, where they want to die, the music they want to hear, the aromas they want to smell, pictures they want to see and also practical matters so they don’t worry about, as an example, who will look after their pets.

We hope the government will suggest the adoption of personal end of life death plans and acknowledges that a good death is more than just good medical care.

Sir Ian Botham was understandably emotional on Gary Richardson’s Sportsweek on BBC Radio 5, recalling the deaths of Tony Greig and Christopher Martin-Jenkins in the space of a few days.

Both will be terribly missed for similar reasons: their passionate love of cricket, their ability as commentators, their instantly recognisable voices, traditional values, senses of humour, strong personalities and personal and professional achievements.

There’s no need to go into details of their lives here, for there have been excellent obituaries. CMJ, or the Major as his colleagues called him, was chief cricket correspondent for the Telegraph and its obituary is a model. The Guardian’s obituary of Tony Greig is also excellent.

Both died from complications caused by cancer, both at tragically early ages,  Greig at 66, CMJ at 67. Despite the advances in medical research and healthier lifestyles – Tony Greig and CMJ exercised, played golf and probably ate well – cancer is still an effective killer.  So too are other illnesses such as heart disease, diabetes and the increasingly common dementia in its various forms.

And then there are the random acts of stupidity, violence, nature and accident that take lives too early and with such shocking and devastating effect.

Yet so many people seem to deny that death will one day or another come to them… ‘who wants to think about their death?’ is still a common response when My Last Song is talked about.

Continue with this view if you want your final event to be dreary, unmemorable, distressing for your loved ones and inappropriate to your life and beliefs.

If on the other hand, you want to take responsibility for how you leave this world, to be remembered the way you want to be remembered, to have your life celebrated, to reduce the grief and anxiety felt by your friends and family then visit My Last Song to help plan your funeral and store your memories in your Lifebox so that future generations will know the real you. For all we leave when we go are our memories.

Tom Walkinshaw, MD of Alba Orbital, previews his company’s high flying service.

Space Memorials is when a portion of human ashes are flown into space on a commercial satellite. The practice isn’t actually that new, with the first flight taking place in 1997 with famous names such as Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry on board.

Alba Orbital will be the first European company to provide Space Memorials. We will be initially offering a sub-orbital and orbit options.

The sub-orbit service has a similar trajectory to many of the space tourism flights which will be coming on stream in the next few years. Orbit is when the satellite orbits the earth, usually every 90 minutes at a speed of about 17,500 mph or 25,000 km.

While the more traditional ways of scattering ashes are appropriate for some families, we believe a growing number of people will find space memorials a fitting way to be remembered, and with the advances in small satellite technology, it will soon be available. We are currently building our prototype satellite in Glasgow’s MAKlab design studio.

We haven’t launched our product pricing yet, but we have been interviewed for the BBC and featured on Scotland on Sunday. We have a few exciting announcements planned for next year.

Find more information on our website or follow us on twitter @albaorbital.

Climate expert Professor Corinne Le Quere says in today’s Metro that we are now on track for a warming of up to 6C by the end of the century unless there is a ‘radical plan’ to cut emissions.

But mankind is too short sighted and too self centred to be radical about helping the environment. Air travel is the fastest growing source of greenhouse gases.  So you would expect our thought leaders and opinion formers to consider the consequences before boarding their flights.

Such people don’t inhabit the BBC, who quite unnecessarily flew numerous members of staff to and from the US to cover the presidential elections.  What messages does this give to viewers and listeners? A total indifference to the environmental consequences.

I emailed my views on this to the charming Shaun Ley, presenter of The World This Weekend, who joined his BBC colleagues in this four yearly short term migration. He argued that his trip was necessary to get a ‘sense of place’.  I’m sorry Shaun, but we got very little sense of place from the BBC and other UK media, but far too many versions of: “it’s only the swing states that matter; it’s too close to call (it wasn’t); women, blacks and Hispanics more likely to vote for Obama; not much enthusiasm for Obama, even less for Romney; employment growth will help Obama…”

The BBC’s US-based staff are just as able to give us this analysis without help from their UK colleagues who should have stayed put.

Jon Snow over at Channel 4 also took the opportunity to fly to the States to cover the election…yes the same Jon Snow who bangs on about his cycling helping to reduce pollution. He’ll have to cycle for several hundred years to counteract the damage his flight to and from the US caused.

The environment means nothing to the travel writers, telling us which undiscovered tourist paradises to discover once we’ve flown half way around the globe, and destroying their delicate biodiversity and sheltered cultures once we arrive.

One may hope in vain that the Guardian, that most progressive of our broadsheets, would think twice about the ethics of producing travel and holiday supplements, but why would it when advertising revenue is at stake?

Sports teams and their supporters are going to ever increasing foreign destinations, usually by plane, these fixtures driven by satellite tv revenue and vanity.  The NFL is now organising games between US sides at Wembley. UK fans of American football will be grateful, the NFL want to exploit a new market…and the hole in the ozone layer grows a bit larger as a consequence.

Our supermarkets’ wilful disregard for unnecessary food miles is best summed up by Tesco’s home delivery vans’ mouthwatering livery of  a bunch of asparagus, only in season in the UK between late April and mid June. For the rest of the year it’s flown in from Peru.

Ponder too the fashion industry. Every six months, fashion designs are promoted, new stock sold, more unnecessary garments end up in our wardrobes.  Fashionistas fly around the world from one ‘Fashion Week’ to another. Most items on show on the catwalks and then, if deemed to be fashionable, manufactured in vast numbers, are made of cotton, one of the most water intensive crops…and who cares that the world’s water is running out, or that to fly the garments from the sweat shops of Asia to the boutiques of the developed world only accelerates the damage to our environment?

We have no intention of modifying our stupid and selfish behaviour…we’ll all be buying our Christmas trees, not giving a thought about the water and nutrients it’s taken from the soil, the pollution caused by its journey from nurseries to our living rooms and the food that could have been grown instead of miniature pine trees.  We take pleasure in our Christmas traditions, and lots of money is to be made.

The food we eat at Christmas is likely to be intensively produced despite the terrible consequences of the intensive rearing of animals – breeding grounds for anti-biotic resistant superbugs and toxic waste.

In looking to the future, intensive production must be the way we feed the rapidly growing world population.  Well that’s what the few multinationals who stand to gain from intensive agriculture would have us believe, although it’s a myth.

Does it matter that we’re destroying the planet by our selfish desire to travel more, to wear the latest fashions, to eat what we want to eat when we want to eat it, no matter how it’s produced, to uphold Christmas traditions, to go on exotic holidays…? Yes, of course it does. But we are more concerned about our pleasures and vanities, so it’s to hell in a handcart.

And remember, while you’re separating your waste into various recyclable bins and bags, those who tell us what to do are flying around the world, buying the latest fashions and devouring as much food and drink as possible.

I can’t see the adoption of any radical solutions, can you?

Barack Obama has, in his first term, been a good President dealing well if not brilliantly with the US economy and foreign affairs.

It’s been difficult to know what his Republican opponent Mitt Romney really stands for, though his economic policy is woefully unconvincing and contradictory. His foreign policy seems two generations out of date, and his defence spending pledges are unaffordable and irrelevant.

He hasn’t been able to articulate what, if anything, the Republican Party has to offer apart from not liking President Obama.

We also take seriously what the Economist magazine says:  ”Mr Romney has an economic plan that works only if you don’t believe most of what he says…not a convincing pitch for a chief executive.” We don’t think he has the right policies to guide the US out of the economic mess of the past four years.

Obama’s policies of prudent government spending and encouraging small business to take on workers is gradually pulling the US into better times. He is less in the pocket of big business and the banks that have got the US, and the rest of the western economies, into the dire financial mess from which we are slowly emerging.

My Last Song believes that America shouldn’t go in Romney’s direction of travel: taking away women’s rights to have an abortion, reducing the tax paid by the rich (and therefore making the poor pay more or reduce their benefits), ignoring the case for equal marriage, giving big business more power and privileges, being indifferent to the needs of the disadvantaged and seemingly guided by the rules of the Mormon Christian sect.

As President Obama’s instinctive sympathy and desire to help the people whose lives have been devastated by storm Sandy shows, he’s a man of the people, and we hope that the people of the US will give him another four years as President.

A widower in Belgrade, Serbia has honoured his wife’s last request by having a replica of her vagina etched onto her tombstone.

When Milena Marinkovic died three years ago, she left her husband Milan a letter explaining the reason for her strange request. She didn’t want Milan looking at other women after she died.

This is a novel way of being remembered, not without its merits though unlikely to achieve its purpose.

But it’s a shame that Milena wasn’t aware of the My Last Song Lifebox, as she could have stored pictures of her vagina and indeed any other images in this secure online facility to remind Milan of what was likely to have been a memorable sex life.

She could have chosen those who she wanted to open her Lifebox…we recommend a fairly restricted group of friends and very close family, and thus saved the blushes (or smirks) of the stonemason and those noticing the unusual opening etched on the grave.

Should anyone else feel like putting images or any messages designed to keep their memories in front of their loved ones, consider getting a Lifebox…far more private for your privates.

An excellent guest blog on the importance of sensitive and trusting nursing from US-based Melanie Bowen.

Chronic illness can be very difficult to endure for patients and their families. During times of greatest need, sufferers of life-threatening diseases require all the support they can get from healthcare providers, family and friends.
Since patients will spend most of their time accompanied by a nurse in a medical facility or in-home nurse while at home, the strength of the bond that forms between the two could be the key factor in determining recovery rate and potential.
Even if recovery is impossible, good support can bring calmness, acceptance, and closure to the afflicted.

Why is emotional support so crucial to the recovery of patients?

As human beings, we are emotional beings. Our fondness for one another is based on a combination of similarity, frequency of interaction, sentimental behaviour, and emotional and intimate connections. The more ‘proof’ that a person receives from another individual to show that they care, the more attached he or she becomes to the supporter.
Humans need to have confirmation and assurance of their relationships with others to feel secure. Without actions, words mean nothing.
Nurses who show genuine desire to help and befriend patients are the ones that do their jobs the best.

How can a strong relationship between nurse and patient affect recovery?

From liver failure and brain tumours to pleural mesothelioma and malignant melanoma, a close bond between caregiver and patient can speed up recovery time and improve the chances of survival regardless of how grim the circumstances.
First, a positive and honest relationship between a nurse and patient gives the patient happiness. Knowing that somebody trustworthy is always there to look out for them can be a very comforting thought that reduces massive amounts of stress and anxiety.
Fear of death cannot be avoided, but strong physical and emotional support can brush aside many of those constant worry that add to stress and anquish.
Additionally, many chronic patients do not have any family or friends to visit them during times when they need the most love. Caring nurses can replace those missing loved ones to provide the same important emotional support that helps the afflicted fight on despite the overwhelming odds.
Second, caring nurses have intimate knowledge of their patients. This is a huge advantage when providing medical assistance that lessens the strain and pain.
Take the example of 26-year-old breast cancer patient Theresa, whose nurse, Jessica, was her caregiver and also became her best friend. Having been by Theresa’s side for many years, Jessica knew Theresa’s medical history. She gave Theresa candy before the drugs that always initiated her gag reflex, to use a longer needle on her, and to check her bowels if a physician doesn’t request an enzyme test.
By contrast, patients who have to transition frequently between nurses don’t have the beneficial personal connection. New nurses aren’t familiar with how the patient has things done, and they don’t have the personal bond to make them care for the patient like a true friend.
Lack of knowledge about and lack genuine concern for a patient are two things that could hinder recovery progress and contribute to worsening health.
Finally, a significant personal bond between nurse and patient give nurses more reason to give their all in providing for the sick. After spending so much time together, the patient is no longer just a stranger but a good friend. As a true friend, a nurse will have personal reasons along with a career obligation to provide the best care possible.

In its annual attempt to get publicity and show itself as moving with the times, Cooperative Funeral Care has issued the results of its latest funeral music survey.

It’s an interesting and commendable exercise, based on over 30,000 funerals in the UK conducted in 12 months up to September 2012.

The survey confirms the continuing demise of hymns and rising popularity of secular songs. Both types of music are still played at very many funerals, confirming the popularity of the modern British funeral, which is a mix of secular and religious elements, readily agreed by most CoE and other low church denominations.

As it has been for many years now, Frank Sinatra’s My Way heads the list of secular songs. Given the Cooperative Funeralcare’s attitude to funerals, exposed on Channel 4’s Dispatches, some might think Sinatra’s cover of Cole Porter’s Anything Goes more suitable.

The release of this year’s survey fuelled the interest of NME, pop music’s must read source of news and views, and its readers and writers have risen to the challenge of selecting their last songs with gusto.  Those under the age of 30 should read and enjoy and then if inspired, send in their fave five funeral songs to My Last Song, so far lacking more modern music.

During his excellent talk on funeral desert island discs,  Paul Gambaccini revealed that the original lyricist of My Way electrocuted himself  standing in his bath changing a lightbulb shortly before the release of Sinatra’s version, thus losing the huge royalties that would have boosted his bank account.

Gambaccini also made the case for two other brilliant farewell songs from Sinatra, Always…a poignant  reminiscence of a love affair,  and  It Was A Very Good Year, in which the singer, now in the autumn of his years, looks back on a lifetime of romantic attachments. There are a number of My Last Song aficionados  of Frank Sinatra, and other tracks recommended are We’ll Be Together Again, Goodbye (a particular favourite of this writer) and I Thought About You.

So when thinking of a Sinatra song for the farewell ceremony, there are many alternatives to My Way, which Paul Anka re-wrote to be an emotional but now rather hackneyed mass seller.