Two things have happened recently which have made me wonder if we're missing something.
Firstly, the small person's funeral discussed in my last post.
It was, as expected, fairly intense and difficult. Just Mum and Dad were there. Some pictures were taken afterwards of the (very pretty) coffin with its floral tributes. I'll be honest, that always freaks me out a bit, but what else do they have?
We sat close to the coffin, on chairs in front of the first pew. It felt a bit "school master and naughty pupils" to have me at the lecturn under the circumstances.
I think it went okay. I found some lovely poems and readings. Everything I know about baby funerals was put into that one ceremony, just to stop it only lasting five minutes. The music had been changed (no, it's okay, I really don't need to know, Mr Funeral Director), but we got around that. At the graveside, I read the poem that the parents had written, and then we laid the little mite to rest. Then I went home and felt like s...t.
Please don't misunderstand me; I'm not trying to compare my "flatness" with the grief and sorrow that the small person's parents were (and no doubt still are) feeling, but it all felt a bit unsatisfactory.
Then, a couple of days later, I was in the vestry at a local crem, chatting to a retired C of E minister. He said that maybe we should "compare notes" one day. My observation was that he had the option of some pastoral care, whereas we tend to end our services as the limo drives away. This minister says that he always makes a point of calling the family a couple of weeks after the ceremony to see how they are doing.
This has been playing on my mind, as I felt that the parents of the small person really don't know how to grieve. They had never been to a funeral before (no, I don't know why they wanted me either, as I'm not sure that they are without a faith of some kind), and didn't know what to expect. That's not, in itself a problem. Between the FD and me, we can guide them, explain options, talk about what they may want to do. But that's just the ceremony. I got a strong sense that these two aren't sure what to do with their emotions, and are holding everything in, for fear of somehow "getting it wrong".
I hope that the unit where the baby died has some kind of counselling and "after care" service. They have a family, who I'm sure will guide and look after them. But if I was a vicar, I could go and see them, or ring them up, and make sure that they're okay, or even offer some advice, or details of people who may be able to help them.
So why don't I do that? So many reasons - I don't know who to suggest (although, yes, I could find out), I don't feel that I have the experience to do it, I'm a bit of a coward, I don't feel it's my "place", I don't know if I've got the emotional strength - it's hard enough doing the ceremony, without continuing that relationship, I don't feel that I know them well enough to offer advice....
I think it all comes down to "Who do I think I am, to take on that role?" If I was a vicar/priest/rabbi/imam.... I would have a "god given" right.
I'm not sure where to go with this. Do we need some sort of secular support group for the bereaved? I have a colleague who is also a Cruse counsellor, and so would probably have more practical advice to offer. But it comes back to the same question - is it our place? Or is it just the duty of all human beings?
No doubt I shall ponder this more, but for now I'm just floating it out there on the wires.
Love and peace to all.
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3 comments:
You say that "we tend to end our services as the limo drives away" and, to be sure, that's what normally happens. But is it that we cut them adrift? It's the other way around, I find. Everything about their demeanour tells you that that's it. The intense intimacy has evaporated - pouf! It's extraordinary. And it often leaves me feeling empty and redundant and not a little -- well, jilted, in a way.
The way funerals have evolved - increasingly secular and in the context of the fragmentation of communities - they are becoming increasingly un-joined-up, each part the preserve of a separate specialism - FD, celebrant, printer, caterer, florist, none of them known to the bereaved family. The same with after-care, once the shared responsibility of faith leader and community. In place of them, we have come up with the specialist bereavement counsellor - another stranger. Altruistic services have been replaced by commercial services.
It's all more or less regrettable. But I think we shouldn't shy away from the fact that, responsible as we as celebrants may feel for following up despite our recognition of our unqualifiedness to do so, your young parents have a responsibility to themselves: they must play their part and seek what they need. What's more, those closest to them have a clear duty to do what they can for them.
I often think of families I have made funerals with and my impulse always is to ring and see how they are. I sometimes do, if the collaboration has led to closeness. But I think most of our families would be surprised to hear us, wonder why we had called, and fend us off. The role of priests licenses them to sail into people's lives whenever they wish. But they are holy people first, individuals second. We are ourselves only, and only for the day.
Yes, it is essentially unsatisfactory, X. Piry. I wish it were otherwise. I'm sure it doesn't make sense. We must all keep pondering.
Thanks Charles.
I handn't thought of it that way - but you're right - I do feel that "flatness" that comes as they drive off to their party. I'm often invited, but I never go. I get the feeling that half way through the first cup of tea, I would be standing, in a corner, trying hard not to look like I mind being alone (ooh - nasty memory of school discos came to mind then).
I appreciate your insight Charles, and your experience. It has made me feel better.
If you have made a serious connection with someone having taken a service for them then I wouldn't be afraid of keeping in touch. You are right though Charles, the bereaved do have to stand on their own two feet and it feels in this instance that perhaps it is not appropriate. We have made many friends through our work, which some would say crosses a professional boundary, and perhaps they are right. The marvelous Dr Sheila Cassidy told me that boundaries are for beginners..
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