I am Jewish and have been brought up in the religion, though I am not at all religious. When my mother died thirteen years ago she couldn’t be buried for four days due to the Sabbath and a post mortem. I was determined to read at the funeral but the Rabbi was unsure, as women don’t usually speak. The night before the funeral I awoke at about three am and my hands were itching to write. I have never been a poet, my mother was, and in the following hour I wrote a beautiful poem from my mother to all of her family and friends, many of whom still have it on their wall to this day. The Rabbi told me he was honoured to have me read it, and even translated it into Hebrew! I have no fear of death or the dead, it is another stage of life, and as my ninety-four year old grandfather said to me, “what would be the point of fear? If I’m right and there’s no afterlife I’ll not know anything about it anyway. If I’m wrong and there is, I’ll be bloody relieved there’s more to come!’