"She is gone"? Not yet

In an earlier post I briefly touched on meeting folks before they die and promised/threatened a longer post on this.I've had a few recently, and they handed me a selection of experiences.

Firstly, people with cancer often think that they will live longer than they do. They talk, almost lightheartedly about having "a month or two left", but they still don't quite think that they're going to die (and who can blame them). Sadly, the reality is that the end of this period is likely to be spent unconscious and, often, the end comes sooner. It's not always the cancer itself that kills them, but something else that comes from having cancer.

But even with this experience, how does one bring the meeting forward. "Really? You don't think I'd better meet you tomorrow?" does not go down well. Last year I wrote a eulogy for a someone who had a terminal diagnosis. I blogged about it at the time - her family were less than impressed, both with her comments (she had painted herself in more glowing terms than they expected.), but also the fact that she had made these arrangements. The lady's family seemed to feel (although it was never expressed in so many words) that she had taken away from them the one "last thing they could do for her" and this left them floundering.

Thirdly, on a selfish note, these ceremonies are much harder. There is a certain comfort in standing up and saying "I didn't have the pleasure of knowing Bert, but I'm grateful to Ethel for all she told me". The boundaries are set, the detachment can remain. When I have had the pleasure, something changes. Even if it's just the memory of a pair of bright eyes, there is then a link which adds a new layer of emotion ot the proceedings. From that point of view, they are probably better, deeper and more meaningful. But they often require a choccie digestive with the cup of tea on return to X.Piry Towers.

And then, of course, there are the open ended cases. The phone calls that are never returned, the eulogies sent with no further correspondence. I like to think that the people I have met but can't get hold of are having a lovely cruise on the Caribbean.

Even though our livelihood may depend on the dearly departed, we don't always like to think of them as dead, either.

Well, who would you recommend.....?

Just recently, I've been dealing with a couple of families who are very organised - sorting out the funeral arrangements before their parent has died. This is a whole other ball game which, no doubt, will be dealt with in a later post.

It inevitably leads to the family asking the question "which FD should we use?"

This puts me in a bit of a difficult situation; in theory, all of the local FDs are my customers (to a greater or lesser degree) and so choosing one suggests that the others aren't as good. And yes, this is probably true, but I worry that if I recommend one, then the 30 that I haven't recommended will find out and stop using me. Celebrant paranoia rules, ok.

Of course, I can recommend that the family goes to an external source, such as the magnificent Good Funeral Guide and find a good 'un there.

Luckily, in this case, another family member said "Oh, you must go to "Diggum & Depe", they were wonderful when my father died." That was me off the hook.

This particular FD is part of one of the large groups and although that doesn't necessarily mean that they are bad, I do have reservations. For example, the local crem uses the Wesley Music System. After I've visited the family, I like to visit the FD, or at least call them to give them the music choices and an update on the visit. These particular chaps have said in the past "don't worry about ringing us, just email the details through". Maybe they trust me to let them know of any concerns. Maybe.

So, the funeral took place and a member of the congregation was taken ill. The FD wasn't in the chapel (I am aware of popular opinion on this), but I guessed that I would find him in the waiting room. I let him and the other chaps there know that this situation had occurred. They dealt with everything they could, got a first aider, called an ambulance, to my knowledge the person was simply a little overheated and has made a full recovery.

Chatting afterwards, the FD said "You're lucky I was in the waiting room!".

What I wanted to say was "Well, you should be in the chapel, just in case of something like this." But I have a commercial side to my brain, which sometimes prevents the tongue from working. So I said nothing. Any ideas for a suitable retort for that one?

Needless to say, when asked in future "which FD should I use?", "Diggum & Depe" won't be the first name I mention.

The small things that amuse

It would be comforting to think that everyone has a redeeming feature; some little spot which prevents them from being totally unpleasant. And often, that little spot is a love of animals.

A short while ago, I was conducting the ceremony for a man who had been....difficult. From reading between the lines, he was fairly selfish, inconsiderate, you get the picture. However, he really loved his dogs. He had owned several, supported a number of canine charities and, basically, preferred them to people (a sometimes understandable position).

And so I was asked by his family to focus on this side of his personality. We had poems about dogs, readings about dogs, stories about his dogs. Basically, it was more doggie than Crufts.

All went okay; the family were pleased and there was a nice display of smiles and handshaking afterwards. On my way back to the vestry, to pick up my things, I noticed a collection box for the next ceremony - for the Cats Protection League.

I like to think that there was a bit of a "Cats and Dogs" punch up in the car park.


Aah.... it's the little things.

Quote du jour

Every now and again we have the privilege of meeting someone who is arranging their own funeral.

Sometimes this is an "in theory" exercise for them, so they have an idea what instructions to leave their loved ones. But, more often, it's because the person has had a terminal diagnosis and they want to get all of their affairs in order.

This is happening at the moment and I have been dealing with a gent who seems well but really isn't.

He rang, a couple of days ago, to talk about the work that I had done so far as well as other arrangements for the funeral. Having underestimated what was involved in putting it all together, he said "Honestly, X.Piry - all of this funeral business is killing me!".

Not sure that's quite what he meant.

Sorry - AWOL again

Apologies - no posting for ages! Just been really busy (weddings, namings, funerals.....)

Just an update on the music from my last posting. A different FD from the group directed the ceremony. I had taken my CD player along, but he told me that the arrangers shouldn't have said that they wouldn't play it.

He offered to sit at the back of the chapel and press the buttons. We then had a few minutes trying to work out the Crem's CD player, but apart from that, all fine.

Will hope to post again soon, when I have something interesting to say.

Cheers, love and peace.

I'm not having that!

I’m dealing with the ceremony of a man who was a specialist on particular musical instruments. He has a CD of music that is not available elsewhere and so our good friends at Wesley can’t get hold of it.

In theory, this is not a problem. The chapel has a CD player in it, and in the past the FD has sat at the back and pressed the buttons for me.

Except, he won’t do it anymore. He expects the family to do it.

Unfortunately the CD player is at the back of the chapel and so I can’t operate that and conduct the service.

So, I think I’m going to take my own portable CD player (small chapel, small congregation) and play it myself. I’m rather peeved with the FD to be honest, but he is part of a large group (I’ll let you all guess) and collectively they give me a lot of work, so falling out with him would not be clever.

I doubt if they’re reducing their fee because they’re asking a family member to act as DJ.

Should I get down from my high horse? Or do others think that this FD is extracting the urine, too?

Don't be afraid to try something new....

We all say "this ceremony is about you and your dead - you can have what you like". I, for one, genuinely mean this, when I say it....but I also know what works well.

We could get all poncy, and talk about "flow" and "narrative arc" and these are things that we need to be aware of, whether it's conscious or not.

So what are the rules that you resist being broken? I ask, because it happened to me recently and was an enlightening experience. I'm a big music fan, generally, and in funerals particularly. It doesn't matter if it's a comic novelty song, or a beautiful aria, if it's appropriate to the people involved, I say "chuck it in". Music is also useful during times of movement (entry and exit, in particular). It covers that nasty squeak of a rubber heel on the parquet, or the sniffing and sobbing of the self-conscious.

However, this particular family wanted things to be different. They wanted the last piece of music (classical, operatic, poignant and wonderful) to be played in full and then leave to silence. The curtains were staying open, allowing folks a moment or two with the coffin on their way out, and this was happening without any musical accompaniment.

I offered an alternative - would you like to hear it all of the way through (sensible, double-time slot; there was no rush) and then play it again as we leave? No, definitely hear it once and then leave to silence. So this is what we did.

I had been discussing this with the long-suffering one, and suggested that it would be a powerful ending, but not terribly uplifting. I think that this prediction was right (at least for me), although one member of the congregation told me that he felt very uplifted, so it wasn't as negative as I had feared.

This has raised questions in my mind and regular readers of this blog will know that I like things that cause me to question my practice. One of the reasons that I like music is that it is a great masker (as described above). And, in the same vein, if a family have chosen three pieces, I suggest that the most upbeat one goes at the end, as we will try to end the ceremony getting people to leave death behind and turn again to life.

But, really, who the hell am I to do this? I'm not there to tell people what to think or feel, and if they want to go through the emotional wringer, because that's what they need, then me trying to end on a jolly note is no good to anyone.

Now, as with all funerals, things vary from family to family. They also vary within a congregation - some need to weep and gnash teeth, others need to look forward to brighter days.

And so, as usual, there is no one answer. But it has been an interesting exercise and one that has reminded me that I needn't be afraid of silence. It can be overpowering sometimes, but it does provide a place of stillness at a time when folks need to simply sit, breathe and feel. It's another tool to use, in creating the best funerals that we can.

To the family who suggested it, I am very grateful.

Seeing the same old faces

A couple of months ago, I mentioned that I had been to the hospital to visit the son of a "deceased". Now, I've had a call to do the son's funeral. This was not a young man - he was a grandfather, so we don't have the tragedy of a life cut too far short (although, don't tell his family that - I'm sure they'd have liked a few years). No, this is more a sadness from seeing a family grieving again, before the previous sorrow has had a chance to work its course. What was particulalry interesting is that it appears that my perception of the gent was way off. I had him down as an elegant, educated man (posh accent, you see - fools me every time). Yet, he was not as he seemed, being more likely (through both choice and circumstances) to shop at Oxfam than Saville Row. He was by no means unintelligent, but not the bookish type that I had thought. From the different family members that I've spoken to, it appears that he gave different impressions to those much closer to him, too. I've got to weave a path which enables everyone to recognise the person that they knew, while getting over the contradictions. The danger with these types of ceremonies, is that they are a little distant, as I can't get to the true "essence" of the man. But if he was an enigma, then perhaps that was his essence. It's unlikely that I'll ever know for sure.

I know I shouldn't laugh....

... and I didn't at the time. But this has made me smile, since.

I was talking to a lady about her Dad - the lady was telling me that he was very good at keeping his personal records etc in order, despite difficulties.

"He'd struggled at school, you see - he was anorexic."



Does that mean that he couldn't even eat his words?

A little lesson in humility

We've all been there.

The ceremony has gone well. The speakers have made heartfelt tributes and the whole thing has flowed beautifully.

On the way out of the flower terrace, every other person has stopped to shake my hand and praise my words, my voice, the way that I put things together.

I'm getting used to this enormous massage to my ego, when another mourner comes towards me with a determined look on his face.

I glance up with a mixture of modesty, sympathy and interest (a look that I've been working on), as he says:

"Is there a toilet here?"

And thus my true role in the proceedings is brought back to me.

Another of those people who do me good.

I'm not a violent woman, but...

...some people are so ..... annoying.


Take the latest.... individual.

* In the preparation of the ceremony, every time the chief mourner decided upon something, he wanted to change it.
* Thanks to him, the funeral started late.
* He delivered a eulogy in which every sentence began with "I".
* He overran his allotted time (I had to cut him short in the end), by adding in historical details and alluding to skeletons in cupboards which were probably best left untouched.
* And then, oh joys, he said that he didn't know the deceased that well because he thought that he would die first, and so the eulogies would be delivered the other way around. (So the only reason to show interest in another person is to speak about them at their funeral? )


Since the thing has been over, I've had a message from him discussing our "joint presentation" (no dear, I was a gob on a stick and you were a speaker, we did not do a "joint presentation" - that would suggest collaberative co-operation and you were not co-operative) and suggesting that I was a little presumptuous in only alloting him a specified amount of time for his eulogy. The time frame was my client's instructions and if this person had spoken about the deceased, rather than himself, it would not have been an issue.


Of course, the man is grieving (but from all of the evidence, I don't think his relationship with the deceased was a close one).

And, as always, family relationships are complicated. This leads people to behave in ways which puts them into (as they see it) positions of importance.


But still I want to hit this person very hard.

So, I have a strategy. When someone is behaving like this, I wheel out the "academic research" theory. My only way of explaining these people is to assume that they are doing a piece of academic research to work out just how irritating they have to be before someone bitch-slaps them up the side of the head. There is no other reasonable explanation for such annoying, demanding and frustrating behaviour. And with this thought in my mind, I smile sweetly, carry on as if they are being perfectly reasonable, and add myself to their research data.

Yes, I realise it's nonsense, but it gets me through the day!



Love to all.

A little funny story....

One of the many humbling things about this job is how much we learn about reslience and forgiveness.


People go through the most horrendous of experiences and yet can come through without resentment or hostility.


Take, for example, a gentleman whose long, full, principled life has come to an end. A few years ago, he was in a hotel bar when he met a couple of Germans. The conversation went like this.



"I lived in Germany for a a few years."



"Really? Where did you live?"



"Stalag XX-B"



You gotta love people like that.

The things that do us good

Regular readers (thank you!) will know that I greatly fear complacency. Every ceremony should have the balance between experience (knowing where the buttons are, being able to calmly lead if needed) and that feeling that this is the first funeral.



After all, for the deceased, it is.



Being the sort of person who likes to keep files containing great phrases that I've picked up along the way, I am well aware that, if necessary, I could knock a ceremony together (excluding the tribute) in twenty minutes, just cutting and pasting. However, I am also well aware that the day I do, is the day that I should hang up by black suit and go back to fannying around with spreadsheets.



So again, how do we get the balance right?



I've been through a couple of similar experiences which, I hope, have kept the words fresh.



Firstly, I was mentoring a new celebrant. Just knowing that I was sending them every funeral that I wrote was enough for me to stop and think about repetition. After all, the family may not have heard it before, but if the (then) trainee had, it made me question if it was right for that family, that "loved one", that situation.



On a similar vein, I have a funeral director who uses me quite regularly (and we love him for that!) and he makes a point of sitting in on every ceremony. Not for him the crafty fag, or the twenty minute opportunity to catch up on phone calls. No, he sits there, keeping an eye on the congregation and making sure that everything is going fine. (It won't surprise readers to know that this is another of Charles's recommended funeral directors)



I don't pretend that he listens to every word that I say, but that fact that he could, is a good discipline for me. It makes me look for those new words, innovative turns of phrase, interesting ways of tying in those "thoughts on life and death" to the family in question.



And for this, I thank him.



There may be people reading this who are horrified. Well, folks, stuff does get re-used. Lots of people want the Joyce Grenfell poem read, or "She is gone". And that's fine - as long as we deliver them as though for an opening night, after rehearsal, but without monotony.



Apologies, I think I'm going over old ground here, but after a week of six funerals (when I read "S/he is gone" at least three times), I feel this need to remind myself of the need to keep fresh and my occasional ability to do it!

No tongues

As always, these things have a way of turning out better than you fear (but never as well as you hope).

The very religious person said their bit, and the song was "You raise me up", so we could have got that on Wesley, but at least, as they brought their own CD player, I could scrabble around on the floor sorting the volume out while they did their stuff.

Another prayer was also mentioned by another contributor but, ultimately, the "commissioning client" was happy with the overall proceedings, so, job done.

Hey ho - onto the next.

Religion by the back door

Forgive me for stating the bleedin' obvious but, as a humanist celebrant, I conduct non-religious ceremonies.

Well, that's the theory. But I'm going through one of those little patches, where the godly are making their mark.

Nothing in life (or death) is black or white, and so an ardent atheist of the angry/Dawkins type may be surrounded by people of faith who don't feel quite right sending their loved on off to their hereafter without a few words of commendation.

I try to be flexible. As a rule of thumb, I am happy for there to be a hymn in the ceremony, but I won't sing it (I'm the one with the microphone). I like to put it into context "we will now have Jerusalem because Bert had a fetish for the ladies of the local WI", something of that nature, and I normally say "unusually for a humanist ceremony, we will now have a hymn...."

If won't say prayers (to me, it's lying and I have a thing about my personal truth), but if others want to have a (single) prayer, and there is a member of the gathering happy to deliver it, I will introduce it (again, contextualising as far as possible).

Many of my colleagues do a lot more than this, and many do a lot less - one hears of point blank refusals of anything vaguely non-scientific. That's their choice, this is mine.

And yet, at the moment, I have ceremonies coming up where I'm beginning to feel compromised.

These are in the same funeral:

1) Having Jerusalem - well, as said above, there is a reason.
2) "My brother and I really like All things bright and beautiful. This will be a small crowd, and so we're just listening to it. I've chosen a choirboy version, so nobody's likely to sing along.

My problem, such as it is, is the worry that people will think "this is a typical humanist funeral". Like I say, in this one, I'll be able to count the number of attendees on both hands, so not anticipating a lot of explanation, but in bigger gigs it feels a bit hypocritical.

The second one is stickier. Deceased came from a religious background, moved away from organised religion, but still has a belief in a creator. Her partner is an out and out atheist and belongs to one of the secular organisations. So far, so okay. The deceased has had a full life, so if we just focus on "this is a celebration of Ethel's life", we will more than fill our time, and (hopefully) do justice to this lady's qualities.

Ah, but.

We are having a number of contributors and one is a friend who had a lot of "spiritual" conversations with the deceased, in the last few years of her life. This person is contributing to the ceremony and, as far as I can tell, with the deceased's partner's permission, is playing a song (don't know what), giving a bible reading and delivering a prayer.

Halle-flippin'-lujiah!

I have been told that this friend has also been known to speak in tongues, but meant a great deal to the deceased.

I will let them have their say. If they go on too long, they'll have the same firm hand on the shoulder that anyone else would. But I hope that no staunch humanists are there - they'll be wondering what on earth is going on!

This contributor has so far wished me a blessed evening, and told me that he's glad that he has my blessing. He neither needs it, nor has it. But if that's what gets him through the day.

I will probably never use this poem.
But I'd really like to:

I would not have a god come in
To shield me suddenly from sin,
And set my house of life to rights;
Nor angels with bright burning wings;
Ordering my earthly thoughts and things;
Rather my own frail guttering lights
Wind blown and nearly beaten out;
Rather the terror of the nights
And long, sick groping after doubt;
Rather be lost than let my would
Slip vaguely from my own control -
Of my own spirit let me be
In sole though feeble mastery

Sara Teasdale, 1884 - 1933

I don't wish to sound all "anti", but sometimes the grey between the black and white gets a little too blurry!

Love and peace to all

It's been a while

Sorry for the absence. What with some odd bits of non-funeral work that involved deadlines, Christmas, a weekend away that didn't happen because of the snow and a busy month, I've not been anywhere near the blog.

It's been a turbulent time;
there have been some curly funerals (going to hospital to see a terminally ill man to arrange the funeral of his father was...interesting),

I've managed to upset a colleague (turf wars, as if there isn't enough crap in life already),

and the bad weather has caused an underlying level of anxiety and forward planning never before seen at X.Piry Towers. I think that every set of words I've written has been emailed to the crematorium, just in case I don't get there. At one point I was stomping around saying "that's it, I'm getting a Land Rover - I don't care how old and tatty it is, I just need something better than the car I've got..."

And underlying anxiety is par for the course with this job/being self employed. I had got to the point where I thought "I can't take any more bookings - I simply don't have time to meet people and to give the funeral words the care and attention they deserve", but the next morning, I woke up panicking because I hadn't heard from a former regular FD for a while. (They have new arrangers in, but I'll keep plugging away).

So, apologies for a negative post, but I feel flippin exhausted. Gloria, I think I need to give your mindfulness a try, get some balance back.

But I do genuinely wish everyone a happy new year. May you all be as fulfilled and fascinated by life as you wish to be.