Know Yourself

Officiating at my friend's funeral showed me I'd got myself all wrong.

He'd had cancer a long time.

At the end, all our friends took him on a final holiday together. As he grew weaker, he called us into his bedroom one by one to give us various tasks. To me, he said, "Cooke, you do my funeral."

I protested. Nothing scared me more than talking to people I didn't know. He ignored me. "I've left a list of songs to play. Play the songs, then say a bit about each one. You won't f**k it up."

He died three days later, aged just 52.

Having known him for 40 years, I should have guessed what came next.

I asked his sister for the list. No list. No songs. WTF?

But I'm made a promise, so I led the service. I welcomed the mourners. I reminisced. I introduced the speakers. I announced the songs. I asked people to reflect as the coffin disappeared.

At the wake, people told me how well I'd done. But when they hugged me, they reeled back. My suit was soaked in sweat.

I'd never been more nervous, but I'd done it.

I'd always assumed I went into publishing because I was better with books than I was with people. It turned out I was wrong. I've got no reason to be scared of people. I communicate really well.

So I brought books and people together … and started writing other people's stories as a ghostwriter.

Because Jansen asked me to officiate at his funeral.

Thanks, Janto.