Heart of the Nation: Darlington 2008

FUNERALS are such a downer. The half-sung hymns and sober suits; the stiff formality of grief.

FUNERALS are such a downer. The half-sung hymns and sober suits; the stiff formality of grief.

Wouldn't it be great if you could, say, have your loved one quietly cremated, then pack their ashes into a rocket and blast it 500 metres into the night sky, to explode in a riot of noise and colour at the climax of a remembrance fireworks display?

Craig Hull's company, Ashes To Ashes, opened for business five months ago, although the 49-year-old Sydneysider is still waiting for his first customer. His first human customer, at least; for the moment, trade is ticking over with deceased pets. He's sent up the ashes of four dogs (two over the ocean from Bronte beach and two over the harbour), and a woman has booked in the mortal remains of her cat for a fireworks display on her 40th birthday party. Hull has grander ambitions, though. "I'm aching to send a person up, to tell you the truth," he says. "It'll be a whole different ball game."

He's not being flippant about grief; he's had plenty in his own life, having lost two partners by the age of 27. It was the deaths of his two beloved dogs several years ago that spawned the idea of a fireworks send-off and led him to train as a pyrotechnician. He sent up the dogs' ashes in the same rocket on New Year's Eve in 2010. It was joyful, he says; he finally felt closure.

Hull makes his living as a rigger for theatre productions - he installed the sets for War Horse and The Addams Family - and he's also a circus aerial artist who performed at the opening ceremony of the Sydney Olympics. He's attracted to out-there ideas. It took him 18 months to clear all the red tape for his new venture; he realises it's confronting for some people, but he thinks it's a service whose time has come. It's hard to argue with his logic: "When you're sending off a loved one, would you rather be looking up at the heavens or down at a hole in the ground?"