Grave Expectations

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Grave Expectations

We are a female-led, Derbyshire based bespoke funeral service. The idea of death is a personal thing and should be treated sensitively.

We are a female led bespoke, Derbyshire based funeral service, dedicated to providing compassionate, nurturing and transparent care whilst adopting a holistic and sustainable approach by working with carefully chosen suppliers who share our commitment to the environment. We believe that everyone should have the opportunity to celebrate their loved ones in the way the would have wanted, to ensure they can look back at that time with fondness and warmth whilst creating funerals as unique as they are.

17/12/2025

Two months since we opened our doors 🧡

Two months ago, we opened the doors at Grave Expectations, not quite knowing what those first weeks would hold, but hopeful that we could create something thoughtful, honest and caring.

Thank you to all the families who have trusted us to care for their loved ones. It is a privilege we never take lightly, and we are so grateful that you chose us to walk alongside you.

Over these first two months, we’ve been overwhelmed by the kindness and support shown to us. Thank you to everyone who has attended a workshop, popped in to say hello, met us for a conversation, or quietly cheered us on as we’ve found our feet.

We would not be here without the incredible support around us. Our heartfelt thanks to Abi Woven Farewell Coffins, Claire and her husband Steve at Fern Floral Design, and Beccy’s (amazing)husband Jim Edgar. Your support has been unfaltering — from listening at the end of the phone, to keeping us grounded, and helping us through the inevitable wobbles of starting something new.

These first two months have been full, emotional, exhausting and deeply rewarding. If you’d told us a year ago that we’d be here now, we honestly wouldn’t have believed it.

Behind the scenes, we’re also hugely grateful to our families for their patience, encouragement and practical wisdom during some very long days and very short nights.

We’ve discovered levels of tiredness we didn’t know existed… but every moment has been worth it 🧡

Thank you for being part of our first two months.

16/12/2025

🌱 A natural way to return to the earth 🌱

We’re really pleased to now have the Earthrise urn by Loop Biotech on display at Grave Expectations.

We’ve been excited about the Earthrise since early 2025, when Loop Biotech’s sustainable products began becoming available in the UK, and it’s wonderful to finally be able to share it with families.

Completely natural and biodegradable, the Earthrise is designed to return gently to the soil. One of the things we love most is that it can be painted by families using eco-friendly paints. Coming together to decorate the urn can be a deeply meaningful and creative way to remember someone - sharing stories, love and time together.

There’s also the option of a lid with a planting hole, allowing the urn to be buried beneath a tree or plant, supporting new life as it naturally breaks down 🌳

Loop Biotech also create the Living Cocoon coffin, made from mycelium and plant fibres. Designed to support natural decomposition, it enriches the soil around it, offering a truly earth-centred approach to burial.

For us, these options reflect what we believe a farewell can be: gentle, personal, and kind to the planet.

You can find more about our approach at
https://graveexpectatioms.co.uk

14/12/2025

Yesterday we had the honour of welcoming a family into our building to line their mum and gran’s beautiful handmade willow coffin, as part of saying goodbye.

Abi from Woven Farewell Coffins gently guided the family through the process, explaining each step and holding the space with such care. As they worked together, we listened to her favourite music — including Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush — which opened the door to memories, stories, laughter, and tears.

There were moments of quiet concentration, moments of deep emotion, and moments of joy. Stories were shared. Cupcakes were eaten. Love was visible in every careful fold and every pause to remember. It was incredibly moving to witness, and a privilege to be part of.

This is what matters to us, giving families the time, space, and support to be involved in ways that feel meaningful to them. Not rushing, not hiding the reality of death, but meeting it with honesty, tenderness, and humanity.

We are so grateful to Abi and to the family for trusting us with such a special moment.

11/12/2025

You might have seen our reel yesterday showing this beautiful wreath up close.

We wanted to share a little more about why pieces like this matter.

Made from dried flowers, bamboo and birch, it’s fully biodegradable and naturally long-lasting. Because it’s made from dried materials, it doesn’t need to be left behind after the funeral — it can be kept as a quiet reminder, a way to stay connected in whatever way feels right.

At Grave Expectations, nothing we do is off the shelf. We don’t offer packages — we build each funeral around what families tell us matters. Whether it’s a wreath, a coffin, a ceremony, or the smallest detail, everything is shaped in conversation and created with care. We work with independent makers and suppliers so items can be crafted to order, with space for meaningful personal touches.

Sustainable, bespoke choices like this wreath — and the Harris Tweed coffin we’ve shared previously — give families the chance to honour someone in a way that truly reflects who they were, and the values they held.

08/12/2025

🌿 Grief Awareness Week — Remembering My Babies

For this part of my reflections, I want to talk about my (Beccy’s) babies. I’m grateful every day for my beautiful, clever, quirky daughter Evie — but I’ve also had seven miscarriages, and those experiences have shaped me more than most people will ever know.

My first miscarriage happened before Evie. It was the hardest, partly because we’d already had a healthy scan and had nicknamed them Pip. There was no warning that anything was wrong until the morning of my 12-week scan, when I noticed some spotting. We still didn’t expect the worst — we’d been reassured it was normal, and I still had all the pregnancy symptoms. Nothing prepares you for a sonographer quietly saying, “There’s no heartbeat.”

Pregnancy loss is such a strange, complicated kind of grief — made even harder because miscarriage is still treated as a taboo. From the moment you see a positive test, that is your baby. You love them instantly. You imagine their future and your future with them. When they die, you grieve not only for them, but for who they could have become and the family you pictured with them in it.

I also found myself grieving my own body. We’re so often told that carrying babies is “what women do,” and when it doesn’t happen easily, it can leave you feeling broken, even though none of it is your fault.

We did go on to have Evie, who is now 14 and wonderfully, unashamedly herself. But after she was born, we had six more miscarriages, ranging from 6 to 12 weeks. Those years were relentless — a rollercoaster of hope and heartbreak for us and for everyone who loved us. The longing for a second child can be all-consuming, and the comments people sometimes make about having “only one” certainly don’t help.

I missed picking Evie up from her first day at school because I was in hospital following another miscarriage. That was my wake-up call. I realised how much I was missing of the child I did have while grieving the ones I couldn’t hold.

Miscarriage can feel incredibly lonely. When an adult dies, people speak their name, share stories, hold space. But when a baby dies before birth, many don’t know what to say — even though inside you’re desperate for them to be acknowledged.

My babies changed me — as a mum, as a wife, as a person. They taught me that some things cannot be fixed, no matter how much we want them to be. They also taught me deep gratitude. Evie’s pregnancy wasn’t easy, her birth was early, and her first months were difficult — but she is here, and she amazes me every day.

I wish we talked more openly about pregnancy loss. I found healing in speaking about my babies, and today I carry seven tiny oak leaves tattooed on my skin — one for each of them — alongside the birth flowers for myself, my husband and Evie. A small mark of our family, in all its forms.

07/12/2025

🌿 Grief Awareness Week — My Gran, Betty

For the next part of my Grief Awareness Week reflections, I want to remember my (Beccy’s)gran — a woman full of character, humour and strength, whose death taught me as much as her life did.

My gran was a real character: strong, funny, glamorous and completely herself. She lived an incredible life, but it was her death that shaped me most.

Gran had what I can only describe as a good death. She told us the day she was going to die, and she did — at home, surrounded by her (very large) family. There was almost a party atmosphere: all her children, most of her grandchildren and her first great-grandchild were there. Grandpa was boiling sausages, my uncle was cooking beef in the Aga, champagne was flowing and the house was full of stories and laughter.

Gran was awake and chatting until the last couple of hours. At one point she asked my mum — one of her six children, and the only girl — to sit her up and put her makeup on. Gran wouldn’t go anywhere without her face on. We took a full family photo at her bedside, as well as a picture of the four generations of women she’d brought into the world. She had 6 children, 17 grandchildren and 1 great-grandchild when she died (and many more since!) — quite the legacy. And of course, she enjoyed a final crème caramel.

When Gran died, we were by her side and she was ready. The women in the family washed and dressed her gently, without rushing for the undertakers. We took our time, held space for her leaving, and it was beautiful.

Her death taught me something profound: you don’t need to rush someone away once they’ve died. Sitting with them, being present, taking your time — it can be deeply healing. It taught me that death isn’t frightening; the person who has died is still your much-loved person.

I carry Gran’s death into my work every day. I always tell families to phone us in their own time, to take the moments they need and not to hurry. Those quiet hours can be some of the most meaningful of all 🧡

Let’s keep the conversation open and let’s together.

06/12/2025

Continuing our Grief Awareness Week posts, the next person we’d like to remember is Lewis Frank Howson — (Katy’s) dad.

🌿 Someone I Miss: Lewis, my dad

This is my dad, Lewis Frank Howson, who sadly passed away in 2013 from prostate cancer. Where do I begin? He was everything you could ever hope for in a parent—loving, fun, caring, and endlessly supportive. He is, and always will be, my hero. I miss him every day, but his legacy lives on so strongly within our family.

My children, Betty and Frank, never had the chance to meet their grandad, but that hasn’t stopped him from being a part of their lives. I tell them stories about him, share the memories that shaped me, and remind them often of how proud he would be of them both.

Frank has a photo of my dad in his room and says goodnight to him every evening without fail. It brings me such comfort knowing that my dad remains present in our home in his own special way.

My dad was, and continues to be, a huge inspiration to me. He has influenced so many of the choices I’ve made throughout my life. When he passed away, I found myself at a crossroads, ready to step into new and exciting paths. He taught me to take risks, to embrace life fully, and to never settle for second best.

Losing him was incredibly hard. I still had so many questions, so many conversations left to have. It’s only as you get older that you realise how much more time you wish you’d had. But I will always be grateful for the years we shared and the memories that stay with me.

Grief is painful and never truly leaves you, and there will always be a part of me that longs for him. But I cherish every moment we had, and talking about him brings me comfort. I know he would be so proud of what Beccy and I have achieved so far.

If you feel able, we’d be honoured to hear about someone you miss too.

Let’s keep the conversation open, and let’s together.

05/12/2025

Continuing our Grief Awareness Week posts, the next person we’d like to remember is Andi — someone who had a huge influence on my (Beccy’s) life and the work I do today.

🌿 Someone I Miss: Andi

Andi came into my life when I was 13, and for the next 25 years he was this brilliant mix of half step-dad, half best friend, a huge presence from the moment he arrived, and right up until he when I was 38.

He was gloriously impulsive. I still remember the day he turned up with a saxophone out of nowhere, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. He shaped so much of who I became, especially my love of music — introducing me to AC/DC, Metallica, and most importantly The Waterboys (who I finally saw live this year) for the very first time.

Andi was an artist, a survivor of a shipwreck, and someone who approached life with a kind of wild creativity and chaos that made everything more interesting. He wasn’t always the most sensible influence, but he was always fun, always loving, and always himself.

His death changed my life in ways I never expected. Our experience wasn’t the best, and as his executors we didn’t know our rights or where to turn. Walking through his illness, his death, and the complicated aftermath was incredibly hard — and it’s one of the reasons I began working in funeral care. I wanted other families to have the clarity, compassion and support that we didn’t fully receive.

Andi’s influence is still woven into my life now — in the music I love, in the choices I make, and in the way I support others through grief.

If you feel able, we’d be honoured to hear about someone you miss too.

Let’s keep the conversation open, and let’s together.

03/12/2025

As part of Grief Awareness Week, we’re sharing a few posts about the people we’ve loved and lost, and how they’ve helped us grow — starting with Beccy’s brother, Dax.

🌿 Someone I Miss: My Brother Dax

This is my beautiful brother, Dax, who died in 2013 aged 44.

Dax was the eldest of us, and from the beginning he was our protector, gentle, artistic, brilliantly funny, and the sort of person who made you feel instantly at ease. I always say he was the best of us, and I still believe he should absolutely have been a rock star.

Growing up, he always looked after us. As adults, he kept doing it — just with better music, wiser conversations, blooming great gin and tonics and plenty of good red wine. Dax and I were the night owls of the family, rarely getting to bed before 5am when we were together. It became a bit of a legend: if we were in the same house, sleep didn’t stand a chance.

Once, I turned up at his house after a long drive, having just finished listening to a song on CD… and as I walked in, that very same track began playing in his living room. The song was “Can’t Stop” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and to this day, it still makes me smile. It will always have a special place for me because of that moment, and because of him.

There’s a Dax-sized hole in our family now. I don’t stay up as late anymore, but I still feel him in those quiet, unexpected moments — in laughter, in music, and in the parts of me shaped by being his sister.

Sharing this during Grief Awareness Week feels right — a reminder that the people we love don’t stop influencing our lives, even after they’re gone.

If you feel able, we’d be honoured to hear about someone you miss too.

Let’s keep the conversation open, and let’s together.

02/12/2025

🌿 National Grief Awareness Week
2nd–8th December

This week, we’re joining The Good Grief Trust in raising awareness of grief and the many ways it continues to shape our lives long after a loss.
Grief isn’t something that fades on a schedule, and it isn’t something we’re expected to “get over.” It becomes part of our story — influencing how we love, remember, and stay connected. Some days feel heavier than others, and that’s a natural part of living with loss.

This year’s theme is “Growing with Grief,” encouraging us to acknowledge how loss changes us while recognising the compassion, strength and understanding that can develop over time.

This week, you might:

🌱 Share a memory of someone you miss
🤝 Reach out to someone who’s grieving
💛 Let a friend know they’re not alone

At Grave Expectations, we’re here with gentle, understanding support — not just on the day of the funeral, but in the months and years that follow.

Let’s keep the conversation open, and let’s together.

Address

The Old Printing Works, Holt Lane
Matlock
DE43LY

Telephone

+447894283798

Website

http://www.graveexpectations.co.uk/

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