What I did over the summer....

I realise that I haven't been keeping my readership (!) up to date.

Ceremony number 12. This is the one I was assessed for accreditation. It was fairly short notice, but a lovely lady, telling the life story of her aged and lovely Mum.

This would have been one that I'd have chosen for accreditation as, apart from a problem with flowers at the beginning, it all went smoothly.

Then came number 13. The hospice lady, whose illness progressed before I could get to meet her. This was tough.

Perhaps I should explain. My Mum died nearly two years ago. This lady had the same name, was roughly the same age and also died of cancer. She had three daughters (I'm one of three girls) and there was just something about this family that I really liked. Because I'd been involved before she died, I got a call very soon after her death and ended up meeting the family less than 48 hours after the poor lady had gone. It was all a bit raw.

The ceremony went really well, there were lovely tributes from family members and a work colleague. At one point, during the ceremony, I thought I was going to lose it, as I looked across the chapel and saw one of the grandchildren sobbing his heart out. But I held it together.

Afterwards, I was standing next to the funeral director who asked me if I was okay. I answered yes (what else does one answer?). The FD then said it looked as though I was a bit tired (Thanks!) and wondered if this was affecting me a bit more than usual. I swung around, so that nobody else could see the tears come to my eyes, as I explained about my Mum. I then spent the next five minutes apologising for being unprofessional etc. A tough one.

Number 14 was almost the opposite, another one of those where I felt that I cared more than the family. I hadn't been able to have a visit, just a few phone calls with family members who weren't particularly forthcoming. Considering that this lady was young enough to have both parents alive, it seemed particularly sad to me that so little effort was being made.

There were tears during the ceremony, but afterwards, the deceased's father just wanted to tell us about all of his war experiences, rather than his daughter. Maybe that was his way of dealing with grief. Maybe the deceased was a complete cow. Maybe it's best not to speculate.

Number 15 was another lady, but this time an elderly lady (she of the funny, see post below). We nearly hit a problem with this one. After all,these are non-religious funerals and the chief mourner wanted this poem all about heaven. I could understand the sentiment; wanting to give comfort to those left behind but I objected, publicly for the reason that it was all about heaven, and privately for the reason that it had a definite touch of the Rupert Bears about it. In the end, however, we compromised. I said that she could have it in the ceremony, but that I wouldn't say it. She had her sister-in-law read it instead and everyone seemed happy. Very happy, in fact. I got invited to a wedding on the back of it. I declined - they were lovely people but I don't know them, they don't know me and they certainly wouldn't want to see me drunk!