I used to work with a lady, whom we’ll call Margaret, who has recently died. Back when I started this game, she had already been unwell but, at that stage, was going through a good patch. She and I were discussing my change of path, and she said to me “well, the thing is, I believe in god”, which was fine with me.
A few months ago, she came along to the ceremony I conducted for another lady we used to work with (I think our office may have “sick building syndrome” – I’m certainly sick of going there), which Margaret thorough enjoyed, and apparently told everyone about.
Sadly, Margaret has now shuffled off this mortal coil, which is terribly sad; she’s only in her 50s. Her children (who we’ll call Jenny and Jemima) want me to do the service. So far so good, BUT, because of her religious faith, it’s happening in a local church.
That’s fine, I thought, I’ll just stand up in my usual “gob on a stick” fashion and delivery a eulogy. However, Jemima wants me to pretty much run the ceremony, with the vicar just adding a few prayers. I was okay with this, but didn't know if the vicar would be. Of course, he has concerns.
I have tried to reassure him that I’m not going to talk about anything but Margaret; that I’m not there to talk about humanism, or to be controversial, but he wants to make sure that any service in his church has the right tone, and delivers the Christian message. I completely understand his point of view, it’s the same reason that I don’t deliver prayers in my ceremonies.
That’s the latest so far – he’s yet to meet Jemima and Jenny, so I just gave them a quick call saying that I may not be able to run as much of it as they wanted. However, the things that they wanted to happen (songs to be played etc) can still be done with the Revd introducing them, rather than me. Jemima seemed a bit disappointed, but I’m hoping that once she and Jenny have spoken to the vicar, all will be well.
There was a slight comedy moment, which I rose above, while talking to the vicar. He was saying that he wanted to get across the Christian message “which is a powerful message, whatever your issues with it”. I didn’t bite. I don’t have issues with his faith; I simply don’t share it.
The Revd seems to be a perfectly nice and reasonable man, so I’m sure that it will all be sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction. On a purely personal level, I just hope I get through whatever I do without breaking down. It’s going to be a tough day.
Updates to follow when I have them.
On a completely separate note, I think I must have lived a very sheltered life.
I visited the family recently of a man who had died. I was talking to his wife about him and she said "He was a good husband - he never laid a finger on me." Is that really the only criterion?
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Friday, 12 June 2009
Just chillin'
It's one o'clock in the morning, I've done two family visits this evening and I've written up both tributes. I'm a bit too awake to go to bed, but getting weary now.
The two visits were quite a contrast and every now and again it does me good to remind me of the variety of the human condition. Neither deaths was expected, but the first gentleman was in his 80s and had been ill for some time. He was expected to die soon, but not then. The visit was calm, gentle and straightforward. I hope that we give him a calm and dignified goodbye.
The second man was more than 20 years younger than the first and, to everyone's understanding, as fit as a robber's dog. But he collapsed and was dead before he hit the ground. I don't know the cause of death, and yes, I could have asked, but it would make no difference to the celebration of his life and I see no value in upsetting the family even more for the sake of my curiousity. That's a question I leave for the undertaker.
It wasn't until I started doing this job that I realised just how tangible emotions can be. I realise it sounds as though I'm talking nonsense, but I could feel the rawness of everyone's grief at the second meeting. We had very few tears, but I think that's as much to do with shock as anything else. I try to remain business-like, calm and professional (as well as gentle, kind and sympathetic) but I find myself unwilling to ask too many questions for fear of further adding to their anxiety.
There were quite a few family members in the room, which helped, as the "do you remember when..." stories bounced off each other well.
It was a relatively short meeting; I'd got enough information to put together what, I hope, is the best tribute to the deceased, and I didn't want to intrude on their grief any further.
Goodnight, sleep tight........
The two visits were quite a contrast and every now and again it does me good to remind me of the variety of the human condition. Neither deaths was expected, but the first gentleman was in his 80s and had been ill for some time. He was expected to die soon, but not then. The visit was calm, gentle and straightforward. I hope that we give him a calm and dignified goodbye.
The second man was more than 20 years younger than the first and, to everyone's understanding, as fit as a robber's dog. But he collapsed and was dead before he hit the ground. I don't know the cause of death, and yes, I could have asked, but it would make no difference to the celebration of his life and I see no value in upsetting the family even more for the sake of my curiousity. That's a question I leave for the undertaker.
It wasn't until I started doing this job that I realised just how tangible emotions can be. I realise it sounds as though I'm talking nonsense, but I could feel the rawness of everyone's grief at the second meeting. We had very few tears, but I think that's as much to do with shock as anything else. I try to remain business-like, calm and professional (as well as gentle, kind and sympathetic) but I find myself unwilling to ask too many questions for fear of further adding to their anxiety.
There were quite a few family members in the room, which helped, as the "do you remember when..." stories bounced off each other well.
It was a relatively short meeting; I'd got enough information to put together what, I hope, is the best tribute to the deceased, and I didn't want to intrude on their grief any further.
Goodnight, sleep tight........
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Maintaining radio silence - anniversary marked.
Oh dear - it's just occurred to me that after my terribly "down on my bad self" entry last time, I've kept silent since. Apologies - I haven't slipped into an abyss - I've just been a busy girl.
Not busy with funerals, alas. To quote an undertaker who was speaking to a colleague of mine; "It's dead out there". I'm covering a few holidays at the moment, so that's all okay, but frankly, if I wasn't, I wouldn't have worked for a month (or, at least, not at this job).
I know that there's a new independent in my local area, and that one of the local FDs is using him, but basically I just have to keep smiling, go and visit my directors when I can, be available when they call, and do a good job when I get a ceremony.
This week was the anniversary of my first ceremony. I was told to expect to do between 1 and 2 per month in my first year. I've done an average of 6 per month - great, but I'd like to do more. I'm looking for other ways of earning money apart from my detested day job, so I'm cracking on with other projects (a bit of training here and there, a few odd bits of writing).
It's not all gloom, however, I had a lovely ceremony last week. The son of the deceased is a professional musician and he not only spoke during the funeral, he also played one of his own compositions. It was a thing of beauty and wonder - it felt a privilege to be there.
Not busy with funerals, alas. To quote an undertaker who was speaking to a colleague of mine; "It's dead out there". I'm covering a few holidays at the moment, so that's all okay, but frankly, if I wasn't, I wouldn't have worked for a month (or, at least, not at this job).
I know that there's a new independent in my local area, and that one of the local FDs is using him, but basically I just have to keep smiling, go and visit my directors when I can, be available when they call, and do a good job when I get a ceremony.
This week was the anniversary of my first ceremony. I was told to expect to do between 1 and 2 per month in my first year. I've done an average of 6 per month - great, but I'd like to do more. I'm looking for other ways of earning money apart from my detested day job, so I'm cracking on with other projects (a bit of training here and there, a few odd bits of writing).
It's not all gloom, however, I had a lovely ceremony last week. The son of the deceased is a professional musician and he not only spoke during the funeral, he also played one of his own compositions. It was a thing of beauty and wonder - it felt a privilege to be there.
Saturday, 18 April 2009
A diary note from a dark day
I've just been going through an old notebook, and found this entry from a couple of months ago.
This is it, this is the moment that I was simultaneously dreading and expecting.
It had all been going too well - I was beginning to think that I was the dog's swingers at this funeral lark, but now I'm having my usual feelings of "I'm crap, I'm causing problems for everyone else, I'll never be employed again and its no more than I deserve".
The problem is a ceremony later this week. It could be huge, so we have concerns about timing. The arranger didn't book a double slot and we could have problems moving people in and out.
This is not my fault and, as many people want to speak, I shall say almost nothing, but the problem is that the situation has created a load of problems for the FD and I feel like I'm adding to them. Eg - the music. I thought 48 hours notice was enough for Wesley, but now it turns out that it might not be, due to the relative obscurity of the tracks.
Basically, my inexperience is coming through and I'm feeling out of control; both of which are making me feel low.
It's mad, it's not the end of the world, but I feel somehow diminised in the FDs eyes. This is an unpleasant feeling, mostly because I like and respect her very much, but also because I don't want this situation to jeopardise our working relationship and future work.
At the end of the day, I can only do my best (which thus far has been okay) and hope to redeem myself.
That was two months ago, and I have only just been asked by the same FD to do another ceremony. The arranger says that they haven't had any humanist ones for a while, which may well be the case.
The ceremony did over-run, but actually went pretty well. I spent the whole day thinking that the FD thought I was a numpty (maybe she does?) but the family were pleased and I got a nice thank you note from them afterwards.
This was the bit of the learning curve I'd been expecting - the bit just after "I can do this", when something, however trivial, goes wrong, and you feel a complete muppet for not forseeing it. But it's healthy, it stops me getting complacent (I hope) and makes the next ceremonies I do better.
Life is all about learning.
This is it, this is the moment that I was simultaneously dreading and expecting.
It had all been going too well - I was beginning to think that I was the dog's swingers at this funeral lark, but now I'm having my usual feelings of "I'm crap, I'm causing problems for everyone else, I'll never be employed again and its no more than I deserve".
The problem is a ceremony later this week. It could be huge, so we have concerns about timing. The arranger didn't book a double slot and we could have problems moving people in and out.
This is not my fault and, as many people want to speak, I shall say almost nothing, but the problem is that the situation has created a load of problems for the FD and I feel like I'm adding to them. Eg - the music. I thought 48 hours notice was enough for Wesley, but now it turns out that it might not be, due to the relative obscurity of the tracks.
Basically, my inexperience is coming through and I'm feeling out of control; both of which are making me feel low.
It's mad, it's not the end of the world, but I feel somehow diminised in the FDs eyes. This is an unpleasant feeling, mostly because I like and respect her very much, but also because I don't want this situation to jeopardise our working relationship and future work.
At the end of the day, I can only do my best (which thus far has been okay) and hope to redeem myself.
That was two months ago, and I have only just been asked by the same FD to do another ceremony. The arranger says that they haven't had any humanist ones for a while, which may well be the case.
The ceremony did over-run, but actually went pretty well. I spent the whole day thinking that the FD thought I was a numpty (maybe she does?) but the family were pleased and I got a nice thank you note from them afterwards.
This was the bit of the learning curve I'd been expecting - the bit just after "I can do this", when something, however trivial, goes wrong, and you feel a complete muppet for not forseeing it. But it's healthy, it stops me getting complacent (I hope) and makes the next ceremonies I do better.
Life is all about learning.
Saturday, 11 April 2009
Logistics, emotions, gifts and misunderstandings
Logistics
It's been a heady few weeks.
I had the ceremony of a particularly tragic young man, who took his own life. For some reason, he decided to travel many miles from where he lived to near where I live and committed suicide here. There was nothing to suggest that he would do anything like this and so his family (which includes his very young children) are in complete shock.
Because of this, they didn't want me standing at the microphone spouting about this chap and so, instead, we were just having a couple of poems and a lot of music.
Due to geographical distance, the family sent a CD of the music to the local crematorium who duly checked that it played. So far, so average.
When I turned up with my cue sheet for the chapel attendants (at this particular crem, they play all of the music from a separate room), we realised that the family had put all of the tunes to be played as if they were one music track. To say that panic set in, was an understatement.
We were frantically fast forwarding through the CD, to be able to mark the times when each piece started and finished, so that the guys would know what to play when. Paul, our backstage man for that day was "man of the match", I can tell you. He played a blinder and the family need never know how much anxiety they caused us.
Emotions
Then we had another tragic case - it was my first funeral for a baby. The poor little boy had been unwell since birth, and there are all sorts of investigations going on about the causes of his birth defects, but on the day of the ceremony, none of this mattered - it was all about his parents, his family and terrible sadness.
Again, the chapel attendant (different crematorium) played a blinder, matching music to curtains and the like. The whole thing actually went rather well. On a purely selfish and personal note, I was pleased and relieved that I didn't cry, although I came close a few times. I was a bit of a space cadet afterwards, but I think that it's allowed. The family seemed happy with what I'd done (lots of hugs on their way out), so that's all I can ask for.
Gifts
It's been a week for people to show their appreciation. To be honest, I don't expect anything more than a handshake when we say goodbye after the ceremony - people are upset and I am just one of the people who helps them along the way. Twice this week, however, I've had families give me gifts in appreciation of my services (yes, Mr Taxman, I am aware of my obligations). I find it flattering, reassuring (not so bad at my job after all, then) and a little embarrassing - after all, they're already paying my fee. However, if they want to do it, I shall be gracious and say thank you very much. It would feel churlish not to.
Misunderstandings.
I've had three ceremonies put into the diary in the last few weeks, only to be scrubbed out again. In all three cases, it's because the conversation has been drawing to a close, when I've been asked "so you'll just do a couple of prayers, then?".
I know that this is a contentious issue and I try to be as flexible as possible but no, I don't say prayers in my ceremonies. They are non-religious ceremonies.
When we are going into a period of music or silence for reflection, I always flag this as a time for those with a faith to say their private prayers. If the prayer is important to the family, I offer that if someone else wants to lead prayers, I will happily stand to one side. I know that I include hymns in my ceremonies, but I believe that music is a different language and that the words aren't always the key part (if I sing "we're all living in a yellow submarine, it doesn't mean that I believe that we are under the surface of the waves in a primary coloured transportation vessel").
However, I do feel that, if nothing else in all this, I must be true to myself and I don't feel comfortable saying prayers, partly because of my own non-belief (I wish we had a positive word for it) and partly because I don't want others to think that this is what a humanist or a non-religious funeral is.
I'm not saying "never", because a circumstance may arise which makes me feel differently, but right now, I feel that it would be a compromise too far.
I may lose business out of it, but I have to stick to my principles, even if they're unpopular. As long as I don't sour my relationships with the funeral directors, then I hope we'll be okay.
Does life have to be so complicated?
It's been a heady few weeks.
I had the ceremony of a particularly tragic young man, who took his own life. For some reason, he decided to travel many miles from where he lived to near where I live and committed suicide here. There was nothing to suggest that he would do anything like this and so his family (which includes his very young children) are in complete shock.
Because of this, they didn't want me standing at the microphone spouting about this chap and so, instead, we were just having a couple of poems and a lot of music.
Due to geographical distance, the family sent a CD of the music to the local crematorium who duly checked that it played. So far, so average.
When I turned up with my cue sheet for the chapel attendants (at this particular crem, they play all of the music from a separate room), we realised that the family had put all of the tunes to be played as if they were one music track. To say that panic set in, was an understatement.
We were frantically fast forwarding through the CD, to be able to mark the times when each piece started and finished, so that the guys would know what to play when. Paul, our backstage man for that day was "man of the match", I can tell you. He played a blinder and the family need never know how much anxiety they caused us.
Emotions
Then we had another tragic case - it was my first funeral for a baby. The poor little boy had been unwell since birth, and there are all sorts of investigations going on about the causes of his birth defects, but on the day of the ceremony, none of this mattered - it was all about his parents, his family and terrible sadness.
Again, the chapel attendant (different crematorium) played a blinder, matching music to curtains and the like. The whole thing actually went rather well. On a purely selfish and personal note, I was pleased and relieved that I didn't cry, although I came close a few times. I was a bit of a space cadet afterwards, but I think that it's allowed. The family seemed happy with what I'd done (lots of hugs on their way out), so that's all I can ask for.
Gifts
It's been a week for people to show their appreciation. To be honest, I don't expect anything more than a handshake when we say goodbye after the ceremony - people are upset and I am just one of the people who helps them along the way. Twice this week, however, I've had families give me gifts in appreciation of my services (yes, Mr Taxman, I am aware of my obligations). I find it flattering, reassuring (not so bad at my job after all, then) and a little embarrassing - after all, they're already paying my fee. However, if they want to do it, I shall be gracious and say thank you very much. It would feel churlish not to.
Misunderstandings.
I've had three ceremonies put into the diary in the last few weeks, only to be scrubbed out again. In all three cases, it's because the conversation has been drawing to a close, when I've been asked "so you'll just do a couple of prayers, then?".
I know that this is a contentious issue and I try to be as flexible as possible but no, I don't say prayers in my ceremonies. They are non-religious ceremonies.
When we are going into a period of music or silence for reflection, I always flag this as a time for those with a faith to say their private prayers. If the prayer is important to the family, I offer that if someone else wants to lead prayers, I will happily stand to one side. I know that I include hymns in my ceremonies, but I believe that music is a different language and that the words aren't always the key part (if I sing "we're all living in a yellow submarine, it doesn't mean that I believe that we are under the surface of the waves in a primary coloured transportation vessel").
However, I do feel that, if nothing else in all this, I must be true to myself and I don't feel comfortable saying prayers, partly because of my own non-belief (I wish we had a positive word for it) and partly because I don't want others to think that this is what a humanist or a non-religious funeral is.
I'm not saying "never", because a circumstance may arise which makes me feel differently, but right now, I feel that it would be a compromise too far.
I may lose business out of it, but I have to stick to my principles, even if they're unpopular. As long as I don't sour my relationships with the funeral directors, then I hope we'll be okay.
Does life have to be so complicated?
Saturday, 21 March 2009
Tales of the unexpected
I have a good sense of humour. Not always appropriate in the funeral trade I grant you, but it's a good mechanism for surviving the bad stuff.
So imagine my wry chuckles when I arrived at a crematorium last week. I got there at 2 for a 2:30 service, as I always do (better an hour early than a minute late). I went into the back office, to check with the chapel attendant that all was okay with the music etc. (I love Wesley Music).
One of the bearers was already there. We said hello, I shook his hand and he said "your bugler will be here at 2:15".
I'm sorry - my what?
Yes, we were having The Last Post. Nobody had felt the need to tell me.
In a way, it wasn't a surprise - the man had a military past (his life, like so many others, had been changed by his National Service experience), but nobody had said a word.
I'd had two or three conversations with the funeral arranger. I'd spent the best part of two hours with the chief mourner, drinking tea and finding out about the dear departed, but still no mention of the blinkin' bugler!
Now, I appear to be making a mountain out of a molehill and I genuinely did find it all amusing, but it could have been a problem. This particular crematorium works on a 30-minute cycle, which means you have 20 minutes for your ceremony. And they are strict on this. I've heard it said that if you take more than 22 minutes, they kidnap your children and sell them to the slave trade. I don't have kids, but I'm worried for the cat.
For this particular ceremony, however, a double time slot had been booked, and so we had a bit of leeway, but it could have been so very different.
Another one to chalk up to experience.
I love this job. It makes me laugh.
So imagine my wry chuckles when I arrived at a crematorium last week. I got there at 2 for a 2:30 service, as I always do (better an hour early than a minute late). I went into the back office, to check with the chapel attendant that all was okay with the music etc. (I love Wesley Music).
One of the bearers was already there. We said hello, I shook his hand and he said "your bugler will be here at 2:15".
I'm sorry - my what?
Yes, we were having The Last Post. Nobody had felt the need to tell me.
In a way, it wasn't a surprise - the man had a military past (his life, like so many others, had been changed by his National Service experience), but nobody had said a word.
I'd had two or three conversations with the funeral arranger. I'd spent the best part of two hours with the chief mourner, drinking tea and finding out about the dear departed, but still no mention of the blinkin' bugler!
Now, I appear to be making a mountain out of a molehill and I genuinely did find it all amusing, but it could have been a problem. This particular crematorium works on a 30-minute cycle, which means you have 20 minutes for your ceremony. And they are strict on this. I've heard it said that if you take more than 22 minutes, they kidnap your children and sell them to the slave trade. I don't have kids, but I'm worried for the cat.
For this particular ceremony, however, a double time slot had been booked, and so we had a bit of leeway, but it could have been so very different.
Another one to chalk up to experience.
I love this job. It makes me laugh.
Monday, 2 March 2009
A brief post and a comedy moment.
Well, after my last rant about needing more work, I've had it coming out of my ears!
I've now done a total of 55 funerals, with two booked for this week.
I still can't get used to the unpredictable nature of this work (I've always had "steady", boring jobs), but that's the nature of the beast.
This will be a short post, as I haven't much to say just now, but I did have a lovely comedy moment.
We had the ceremony of a much loved and elderly gentleman. He was a solid sort of chap who, in his peak had looked after three allotments at once and fed the family all summer. His daughter chose Kipling's "The Glory of the Garden" (I have a slightly adapted version, taking the god out of it) to be read. The deceased's grandson read the poem very clearly and it was well received.
Afterwards, standing at the flower terrace (I always hang around afterwards, having been disgusted at a family funeral once by the vicar being in his car and half way down the drive before we'd even read the card on the floral tribute), I congratulated the grandson on his delivery of the poem.
A lady came up to him and started to speak, so I stepped slightly to one side. She then came up to me and asked "And who are you?"
"I conducted the ceremony."
"Oh yes, of course you did".
Being a giggler, I was actually proud that I didn't burst out laughing. In fairness, this lady's vision is not strong, but once she heard my voice, she recognised me.
To be honest, I found it funny, as I had been standing there for the best part of half an hour, rattling on about life, the universe, everything and, of course, the dear departed.
However, I was really pleased that she hadn't realised who I was. It doesn't matter who I am (unless someone wants a celebrant, then my name can be emblazoned in big letters). It matters who the deceased was, and it matters that we gave him a meaningful and appropriate send off.
I often think "it's not about you" when I meet family members, but I certainly think that about my own part in the proceedings.
A while ago I met someone, through some other work that I do and he was talking about his good friend who had died last year. I pieced bits of the conversation together and realised that this had been my fourth funeral. The chap I'd met hadn't recognised me at all, but he remembered what a good funeral it was.
Job done.
I've now done a total of 55 funerals, with two booked for this week.
I still can't get used to the unpredictable nature of this work (I've always had "steady", boring jobs), but that's the nature of the beast.
This will be a short post, as I haven't much to say just now, but I did have a lovely comedy moment.
We had the ceremony of a much loved and elderly gentleman. He was a solid sort of chap who, in his peak had looked after three allotments at once and fed the family all summer. His daughter chose Kipling's "The Glory of the Garden" (I have a slightly adapted version, taking the god out of it) to be read. The deceased's grandson read the poem very clearly and it was well received.
Afterwards, standing at the flower terrace (I always hang around afterwards, having been disgusted at a family funeral once by the vicar being in his car and half way down the drive before we'd even read the card on the floral tribute), I congratulated the grandson on his delivery of the poem.
A lady came up to him and started to speak, so I stepped slightly to one side. She then came up to me and asked "And who are you?"
"I conducted the ceremony."
"Oh yes, of course you did".
Being a giggler, I was actually proud that I didn't burst out laughing. In fairness, this lady's vision is not strong, but once she heard my voice, she recognised me.
To be honest, I found it funny, as I had been standing there for the best part of half an hour, rattling on about life, the universe, everything and, of course, the dear departed.
However, I was really pleased that she hadn't realised who I was. It doesn't matter who I am (unless someone wants a celebrant, then my name can be emblazoned in big letters). It matters who the deceased was, and it matters that we gave him a meaningful and appropriate send off.
I often think "it's not about you" when I meet family members, but I certainly think that about my own part in the proceedings.
A while ago I met someone, through some other work that I do and he was talking about his good friend who had died last year. I pieced bits of the conversation together and realised that this had been my fourth funeral. The chap I'd met hadn't recognised me at all, but he remembered what a good funeral it was.
Job done.
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