Those who aren't involved in the business of dying assume, not unreasonably, that it's the emotional funerals (see last post) that are the most difficult.
They are not without their troubles and their wear and tear, it's true, but if we can genuinely feel that we are helping someone in the most awful of circumstances, then the "difficult" funerals can be rewarding and, perversely, very life affirming.
So what is really testing? Doing funerals for people that we can't stand.
Now, maybe it's just me - I'm a woman of a certain age who no longer feels the need to make everyone like me. That said, on the whole, I try to be fairly warm, sympathetic and friendly, so there aren't many people that I seriously fall out with.
But some families.......
I turned up for a meeting the other evening. The lady opened the door. I explained who I was and she looked me up and down before saying "oh" in a way that emcompassed disgust, displeasure and disappointment.
There are many possible reasons for this:
1) I'm no oil painting - but I did have clean, smart clothes on and my shoes weren't dirty. It's usually enough to get me in the door. She didn't give the impression of someone who worried a huge amount about being a picture of glamour.
2) She doesn't want to have need of a funeral celebrant. Perhaps this was just the way that her grief was coming out.
3) My name is one of those that, with an adjustment in spelling, can be for either gender - she may have been expecting a man.
4) She's not a very nice person.
To be honest, it was not an easy meeting. The family had elements of dysfunction about them and were not the most communicative. It was one of those times when I'm looking at my notes (pretending to read them) thinking "throw me a bone, here" and desperately trying to come up with a question that will get a response of more than two or three words.
Of course, I will do my best, but this lot have really got on my threepennies. They want a ridiculous number of pieces of music - I have explained that we probably won't hear more than a minute of each, and that will still be half of the ceremony time. At the end, I'll present them with a bible, a complete works of Shakespeare and ask them what their luxury item will be.
I have been waiting for over a week for more details, following a meeting between other family members (in another part of the country), and nothing has been forthcoming. I have a feeling I will be handed a piece of scrappy paper with a few handwritten notes at the chapel door and be expected to slot perfect prose in between hits from the golden age of songwriting.
Do you see the problem? Because these people weren't terribly welcoming, and not awfully friendly, my tolerance levels are far lower than the people who are complete fluff-heads, but kinder hearted.
The weakness is in me, I understand that and I will do my utmost to make sure that they never know just how irritating I find them - I will wear my best suit, my kindest smile and put every effort into the funeral.
And then I will never have to see those .... (insert word of choice here) again.
So how do we cope with these people? Well I do resort to childish name calling - readers of earlier posts may remember "That Bloody Man", and this lot will be forever known as "Freak Show", but only in the confines of X.Piry Towers, of course.
The other coping mechanism is "eye on the prize". By the end of funeral day, I will have completed my job with professionalism, the FD (and if this family have been a pain to me, there is a good chance that the FD has had problems, too), will be pleased with my work, and I can sit down in the evening, purring as contentedly as the cat on my lap.
I've talked in the past about my concerns for people after the funeral; a lack of "pastoral care", but in this case (and I'm not proud of it), I really don't give a monkeys.
Love and peace to all.
4 comments:
Sorry to enjoy your frustration XP, but what an enjoyable post! Also an informative and helpful one.
It's not a weakness in you, surely - unless you think you should be Mother Theresa+Clare Raynor+Earth Mother of the Month - and something tells me you don't (quite rightly - self-righteousness should be on the seven deadly list.)
Sometimes families actually don't care too much - actually, and happily only occasionally, they couldn't give much of a toss, because they are too full of their own egos. Sad, but hard to help.
But no question dysfunctional and uncommunicative families are the worst. Why should you like them, or care too much about what happens to them later on? You'll do a professional job for them, and they will probably never know how difficult you find them. Please collect your Oscar on the way out.
Maybe it's a bit like an A&E nurse dealing with total rearends and managing not to tell them that's what they are, whilst they get their self-inflicted wounds sewn up to the music of their own clattering egos?
If they're not telling you much, maybe it's a blessed relief that they want so much music?
Without being heartless, and allowing for a general framework of compassion within which we work, even with total rearends: families tend, I reckon, to get funerals for their members that reflect at least to some degree the sort of lives they have led. Happily, in some cases, the funeral is a better reflection that they might have expected. In any case, the burden is ours, thankfully only for a few days.
Well, good luck. I agree - to leave after a distressing but honest funeral is a lot more life-affirming than to do your best with people of whom the kindest thing to say is that they are not easy to help...
Thanks Gloria.
I worry about posts like this - as I fear that I'm the only one, and so your reply, full of common sense is very comforting.
The nursing comparison is a fine one and I shall endeavour to remember it when I've got my next bunch of ... delights.
It's interesting that you bring up the families who don't seem to care that much - they are also troubling. In those circs, it can, sometimes, become more about us and our desire to do a good job for the chap in the box - while of course, respecting the family's wishes for low key, etc.
As you say - the key thing is that the problem is only ours for a few days, then we can forget it, turn it into a story for dinner parties (does anyone go to dinner parties any more?) or simply file it away and bank the cheque.
Thanks again.
It's very pleasant to think that the odd comment may be of use, because I know how helpful the comments are that I've had from you and others. You're absolutely not "the only one."
It was the comedian Bill Hicks who used to say "Is it me? Is it me?" after describing some absurdity of modern life (marketing was a favourite target)and of course it wasn't him, any more than it is with you. Right, as we used to say a long time ago, on, sister!
Hey, XP, how did this funeral actually go, on the day?
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