WHEN it became apparent that her beloved mother was going to lose her battle with cancer, Yva McKerlich found herself – unusually, inexplicably – at a loss for words.

“I suddenly realised how difficult it is to start that conversation,” she says, slowly.

“When you know someone is terminally ill, how do you just come out and say – so, when you die, what do you want me to do?”

She adds: “There we were, my mum and I – two capable, outspoken communicators and we were still having tremendous difficulty having that conversation.

“In the end, I just had to come out with it and said to her – don’t you dare die and leave me not knowing what you want.”

It was a life-changing moment for Yva.

“I realised maybe I could go and get some training and be a person who is around to help with those conversations,” she explains.

“It became really important to me.”

Yva gave up her job – she was an English teacher – retrained, and became a funeral celebrant.

Through her connections with the Marie Curie Hospice in Glasgow, where her mum Sandra Pearson had been treated for the last three months of her life, she was asked to join the chaplaincy team.

“My mum would have laughed out loud at that,” grins Yva, 41, who lives in Battlefield.

“Anyone that knows me, in fact, would laugh – a traditional chaplaincy role is really not me at all. I’m not religious, for a start.

“But Cliff Shanganya, the chaplain at the hospice, explained that actually, what they needed from a chaplaincy team was a breadth of spiritual care.

“Whoever walks through the door, we have to find a way to meet their spiritual needs, even if they might not define them as spiritual.”

A key part of Yva’s role is to help people who know they are facing their last days, weeks or months plan their funeral.

“The first person I spoke to just wanted to take the burden off her family,” she explains.

“We had a blether. Most people are fairly business-like about the discussion – they are not looking for me to help with their acceptance of what is happening to them, that comes separately.

“What they want is someone to discuss the practical stuff with – what they will wear, what music they want played, whether they want a steak pie dinner or a sandwich platter buffet served up afterwards.”

Yva adds: “People think it’s a terribly sad job but it’s not – our conversations are mainly upbeat.

“Once I have spoken to the person, who will tell me the stories they want told, I spend time with the families which is lovely.

“It’s not just about getting the person’s perspective of themselves; people are often not very kind to themselves sometimes, or they don’t tell you the funny little anecdotes.

“Sometimes, afterwards, families will come up and say you know, I didn’t know that about Mum, or Dad, and it’s lovely to have played a part in sharing that.”

The hardest moments, says Yva, are when she can relate a particular story to her own life. “It’s difficult when you see parallels,” she nods.

“Then you have to be careful, take a step back.”

Yva’s mum Sandra was diagnosed with cancer 12 years ago after finding a lump on her breast.

“It knocked the feet from under us,” recalls Yva. “She was fit, healthy, young – just turned 50 – so we didn’t expect to hear the c-word. She had surgery, treatment, then a long period of nothing.

But it spread, eventually, and she was diagnosed with stage 4 bone cancer and a dissolving spine when she was 60.

“Seven months after the diagnosis she died, in October 2014.”

Yva smiles: “My mum loved life – she relished challenge, being different.

Her funeral was a party, really – we created a colourful Egyptian death mask for her to wear, played the 1812 Overture and gave people wildflower seed bombs to plant in her memory.

“We also gave her a cardboard coffin and got people to decorate it.”

During her mum’s stay at the Marie Curie Hospice, Yva had signed up to do a trek in Cambodia in aid of the charity.

After her mum’s death, she was determined to go ahead with the hike, and met many people who, like herself, had lost a loved one.

“What struck me was how many said they had had such rubbish funerals, because they hadn’t had the conversation,” says Yva.

Now she has officiated at around 85 services since completing her training last February.

“I feel it’s a real privilege to do this,” she says.

“It’s sad, of course – but I have a different kind of connection with the people I meet; they are not my family or close friends – there has to be a degree of separation.

“And then getting positive feedback from families is wonderful.

“It’s a reminder that while the connection you have is fleeting, it’s important and you are doing something invaluable….” l

If you have questions about terminal illness, need support or just want to talk, call the Marie Curie Support Line on 0800 090 2309. It’s for anyone affected by terminal illness, including family and friends. If you would like to donate to Marie Curie, visit www.mariecurie.org.uk or call 0800 304 7025.