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.....
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4 comments:
Oh gosh, I'm interested too, XP. I'm so sorry, I seem to have missed your last and, though I thought I'd checked on everybody when I got back from my internetless hols, I can't have done a thorough and systematic job.
Which brings me to your post. With these families who block us out, whether through privacy or undefined animus, it's not just the personal relationship that's difficult, it's everything to do with the creation of the ceremony. Reluctance infests one's spirit in every aspect of its creation, the writing of it, in particular - how we put that off!! And though I cannot recall any consequent slip-up I have ever made, I know there were slip-ups. It only goes to show what can happen when we are not up for it and therefore meticulous, because it's jolly hard to be meticulous when, frankly, you just want to get it over and behind you.
There is, of course, an incredibly funny side to this funeral. Gunshots are rarely heard at obsequies and, had this been a great funeral, I guess the audience would have giggled about it for years.
I guess they'd chosen all that music to pad out the ceremony pre-emptively? They just wanted to go through the motions and commission a bit of (more or less meaningless) blah-blah-blah from you? Such people are a mystery and remain so.
If only we could switch off and construct such ceremonies mechanically. But we can't, can we? It's not the way our hearts were made.
There will be others... (!!!)
Thanks, Charles,
Yes, when I'm not thinking "if only I'd..." then I do find the whole thing funnier than I'm sure I should (certainly, when I'm telling it to friends I do up the laughs).
This is certainly a "chalk it up to experience" one and as long as I learn from it, then I'm not going to let it eat away at me.
But why did they want so much music? I think that this was more to do with the family member who had been left "in charge" of music either chosing their favourites or wanting to throw everything at it.
On a selfish note, it was a shame, as I had a lovely poem which would have fitted beautifully (given the deceased's war experience) and wanted to add more words which would have given a little more depth to the proceedings. But I had to leave them out because of the nine (yes, count 'em) tracks.
Oh well, as we always say - it's not about me.
Thanks again, Charles. Glad you had a good holiday.
And Charles, please don't apologise for having missed my post.
Thanks XP, interesting and helpful. You illuminate some of the characteristic tensions of what we do - we sometimes feel that something would go so well, be so much more eloquent and effective, than what the family choose. For these occasions, I should have tattooed on the the back of my hand "it's not an artefact, it's an event with its own existential energy, sometimes an effective lack of symmetry, sometimes an authentically mundane quality which reflects the family and the person" but my hand isn't big enough.
And it's very difficult/impossible to say "we're not having that." One sometimes points out the dangers and drawbacks, and hopes to win them round. Is the trouble that it tends to feel like all or nothing? I'm not doing a ceremony with that much music = find someone else...
It sounds to me as though the funeral did its job for the family. So job done. As for not talking to the Cold One, well, your excellent quote sums it up, and Charles' eloquent comment about reluctance.
Sometimes a script just won't seem to lift off, there's not been enough interaction, I have little imaginative or emotional link to the people I've been speaking to, other than in a generalsed way of compassion and trying to serve their needs. I can't energise it. It might go perfectly well, but it won't walk on its own. Or "I daren't talk to him again, he's such a dick it will stop me writing a decent ceremony, he duzmiyedin." As professional and calm as we may be, we are also semi-permeable.
Other times, I'm in the middle of drafting it, and it begins to tug at the guy ropes...because that particular life gets to me, I can feel it.
You're absolutely right to move on, particularly since they seemed to value what you did for them. I'm sorry you embarrassed yourself, but The Lone Ranger is very funny, though not to you at the time I guess. Though the family didn't object, so...
There's a joke in there somewhere about silver bullets, but I'm too tired to work it out.
I ought to post about the things that make my face burn, and the things I get tense about when I needn't. Usually.
Difficult to tell if you really weren't as warm and friendly as usual, or if that's a kind of back-projection or overylay originating in your concerns about the whole thing? Sounds to me, objectively speaking, as though you did the job, Kemosabe.
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