Sometimes I wonder if I'm just too soft for this game.
When I'm talking to a family, I have an idea in my head of the structure that makes a successful ceremony, in terms of flow, breaking up long periods of speech with music, looking after contributors, trying to give people time and space to deal with their emotions etc and leading them, as gently as possible, to the committal, if they're having one, with or without curtains.
However, this is just an idea in my head and, when asked, I will suggest it to families, but make a point of saying "this is not cast in stone", "this is your loved one", "it's up to you what type of ceremony you want".....
I am in a situation where I am taking a funeral for a lady whose husband died three years ago. At that time, a local registrar conducted that service. This means that I'm now getting the registrar's structure inflicted on me, for no other reason than it's familiar to the people involved.
This is not a big problem - I'll write the ceremony to meet the family's requirements even if (as stated in previous posts), I don't think it's the best choice. But I do resist having the headings of the ceremony section headings dictated to me.
For example, I call my last bit "closing words". It does exactly what it says in the tin. It's the parish notices, if you will, the thanking people for coming, telling them which charity has been nominated, giving directions to the pub, those sorts of things. I try to end with a positive, uplifting and consoling note, such as taking comfort from memories of a life well lived, and learning from the lessons taught by the one who is no longer with us.
However, I am not going to tell people how to feel about what I say. And so I did politely request that the final section be called "closing words", not "messages of farewell and comfort". They might not be comforted. If someone's going through the angry stage of their grieving, my saying "she's still alive in your memory" is not necessarily going to make them feel better.
The family said that they weren't given much of a choice on structure with Dad's ceremony, and that they went along with what was suggested. So perhaps this is what I should be doing? I fear that my "you can have what you like" approach may come across as wishy-washy, but I would rather think of it as flexible.
I'm not going to change my approach - even if it creates more work (it would be easier to fill in a template). I can't put my hand on my heart and say that I create individual ceremonies if I'm just slotting bits of text into a box. Being viewed as weak is a chance I'll have to take.
There is a temptation to make this competitive ("oh, is that all the registrar wrote, I can do better than that"), but the mantra continues...It's not about me, it's not about me, it's not about me.
Am I being petty about the headings? Possibly, but much as it's not about me, as celebrants there has to be a bit of personal truth in what we do, otherwise we might as well stand there and read out the phone directory. And telling people that they should feel comforted is way outside of my personal truth.
Ultimately, all I can do is my best, true to everything that the family has asked for (the headings don't really matter to them, judging by our conversation) and deliver a good ceremony, paying the right tribute to their Mum.
Not sure why this is bothering me so much, but there we go.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Sunday, 5 September 2010
The real test - update
Thanks to those who are interested (that's you, Gloria).
So, how did this ceremony go? Well, it went. I haven't posted because I'm a bit embarrassed about a part of it.
But, to give the full picture - in the office at the crematorium, they were running a book on how many minutes I would be over time.
The family were relatively subdued and the promised "extra information from the other relatives" wasn't forthcoming, so that pressure was removed.
As expected, the congregation was fairly small and, as I was the only one speaking, we didn't have emotional contributors to look after.
I played about a sixty to ninety seconds of each piece of music and didn't hang around in between. And we came in a couple of minutes under time.
It wasn't one of the all time great funerals - I felt more like a local radio DJ, desperately trying to forge links between the deceased and the music "and here's another song from the musicals that ZZ liked so much, a classic hit from a classic performer......"
At the end, however, the family were moved (by the circs, rather than me, I'm sure, but their tears were real and I'm glad we gave them the space to shed them) and they thanked me for a lovely service.
This is one that's been on my mind, because of the things that I think I could have done better.
Firstly, the amount of music. It was ridiculous, it made for a very disjointed ceremony and felt as though it was all about a particular member of the family, rather than the rest of them and, most crucially, the deceased. But who am I to say "no you can't"? I could have perhaps spoken to another family member to canvass their opinion, but as that was the woman who had been so unwelcoming at the door, I didn't feel that she wanted additional contact from me.
My own behaviour - I was professional, I hope, but I'm not sure I was quite as warm and friendly as I am with other families. There is an element of "such rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment" (I kept the complete works of Shakespeare for myself), but I could have risen above all that.
And, perhaps, the most important part of that, I could have put a bit more effort in. And this is the bit that I'm almost too embarrassed to share. One of the pieces of music was the finale of the William Tell overture. It wasn't on my local Wesley list and so usually, I would call Wesley, chat to one of their very nice and helpful people and make sure that we have exactly what the family want, getting a reference number and everything.
On this occasion, I didn't. When the funeral arranger said that Wesley "couldn't do parts of music", I didn't argue and simply said "okay, let's ask for the Lone Ranger theme tune."
Unfortunately, the TV theme tune has an awful lot of talking over the music, and the sound of gun shots! I faded it quickly, said something afterwards about it being the right music, if not usually heard with the narratve and moved on. But I am ashamed of myself because a simple phone call by me would have avoided this.
It's a lesson learned, but, as we've said before, I can learn from the lesson, but the family can't - they've had their one chance and if I cock up (through omission, or through error), they can't do it all again.
The world didn't end, and the family did seem genuinely pleased with the ceremony. But I wasn't.
Oh well. Onwards and I won't make that mistake again.
Hi ho silver and away.....
So, how did this ceremony go? Well, it went. I haven't posted because I'm a bit embarrassed about a part of it.
But, to give the full picture - in the office at the crematorium, they were running a book on how many minutes I would be over time.
The family were relatively subdued and the promised "extra information from the other relatives" wasn't forthcoming, so that pressure was removed.
As expected, the congregation was fairly small and, as I was the only one speaking, we didn't have emotional contributors to look after.
I played about a sixty to ninety seconds of each piece of music and didn't hang around in between. And we came in a couple of minutes under time.
It wasn't one of the all time great funerals - I felt more like a local radio DJ, desperately trying to forge links between the deceased and the music "and here's another song from the musicals that ZZ liked so much, a classic hit from a classic performer......"
At the end, however, the family were moved (by the circs, rather than me, I'm sure, but their tears were real and I'm glad we gave them the space to shed them) and they thanked me for a lovely service.
This is one that's been on my mind, because of the things that I think I could have done better.
Firstly, the amount of music. It was ridiculous, it made for a very disjointed ceremony and felt as though it was all about a particular member of the family, rather than the rest of them and, most crucially, the deceased. But who am I to say "no you can't"? I could have perhaps spoken to another family member to canvass their opinion, but as that was the woman who had been so unwelcoming at the door, I didn't feel that she wanted additional contact from me.
My own behaviour - I was professional, I hope, but I'm not sure I was quite as warm and friendly as I am with other families. There is an element of "such rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment" (I kept the complete works of Shakespeare for myself), but I could have risen above all that.
And, perhaps, the most important part of that, I could have put a bit more effort in. And this is the bit that I'm almost too embarrassed to share. One of the pieces of music was the finale of the William Tell overture. It wasn't on my local Wesley list and so usually, I would call Wesley, chat to one of their very nice and helpful people and make sure that we have exactly what the family want, getting a reference number and everything.
On this occasion, I didn't. When the funeral arranger said that Wesley "couldn't do parts of music", I didn't argue and simply said "okay, let's ask for the Lone Ranger theme tune."
Unfortunately, the TV theme tune has an awful lot of talking over the music, and the sound of gun shots! I faded it quickly, said something afterwards about it being the right music, if not usually heard with the narratve and moved on. But I am ashamed of myself because a simple phone call by me would have avoided this.
It's a lesson learned, but, as we've said before, I can learn from the lesson, but the family can't - they've had their one chance and if I cock up (through omission, or through error), they can't do it all again.
The world didn't end, and the family did seem genuinely pleased with the ceremony. But I wasn't.
Oh well. Onwards and I won't make that mistake again.
Hi ho silver and away.....
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