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........
2 comments:
I have to be honest, it's funerals like these that make me feel like even more of a stranger at the funeral than I actually am. I can never evaluate the value or effect of my words -- it can feel like just going through the motions.
But - but: if it's what people want, that's all that matters. And we don't do it for us, we do it for them.
It's a funny business, I often think. But, d'you know, I think I think that because I don't think I'm cut out for celebrancy.
So, well done you! And all admiration for your writing through midnight. I couldn't do that, either!
Oh, Charles - I'm sure you're cut out for celebrancy.
I know what you mean about not being able to evaluate the effect of your words.
I did a ceremony last week, and everyone sat there, stone faced, despite having told me lots of great stories which I used to add colour to the tribute. Not for the first time, I thought "I'm dying on my a£$£, here." However, I've had three thank you notes off the back of that one ceremony.
We just have to do our best and hope it works, eh?
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