Don't get too close to the furnace

It's never what you think it will be...

2012-02-06T01:38:00.000-08:00

In the last week, I have met two sets of parents, to put together the funeral of their children. One is an adult child, the other, a little girl who had been poorly since birth.

The striking thing about these meetings (both deaths were unexpected, despite difficult histories) was how incredibly calm the parents were. By contrast, I met a stereotypical "little old lady" the week before who had lost her husband of sixty years and was giving off vibes of fear at the dark future without him that was opening up before her.

I had been dreading the meeting with the younger family, worrying about how they would be; could I cope with their emotions and still be professional? As it turned out, it was one of the most uplifting meetings that I've had - they gained so much from their experience with their daughter, whom they absolutely adored, that they feel, amid the sadness, gratitude and privilege.

The parents of the adult child have also developed coping strategies, which involve a great deal of communication, particularly with their other children, and being able to rely on the support of good friends.

I remember, long ago, being surprised at how low I felt after the funeral of a 102 year old, and how uplifted after a 45 year old. I suppose this is the same again.

A colleague of mine, when she pulls up at the family's house, thinks to herself "I wonder what I'll find in here?" I guess that's one of the pleasures of the job - we never know until we get there and trying to pre-guess is not worth the bothering with.

Long may it continue.

When funerals become like French homework

2012-01-27T01:12:00.000-08:00

I'm currently taking a little break from writing a funeral. In the name of research, you understand, I'm listening to the music that we'll be playing.

This funeral is for the second member of a family that I've had the honour of dealing with. A few months ago, I conducting a ceremony for a gent. His sister liked the funeral and so I have been selected to do the honours, now that she has died.

In many ways, this is very gratifying - you know you're doing the right thing, if they ask for you again.

Or do you? Is it just familiarity and therefore easy?

Having met the lady's husband, he just wants me to do pretty much the same funeral again; same music, same format.

But do I use the same words? As we give our folks a copy of the words after the ceremony, I want it to be close in tone and concept, but not identical, to emphasise the difference between brother and sister and the creation from scratch of each ceremony. I'm not sure if this is about professional standards, writing something unique for the customer, or my ego, but whatever the motive, the end result is the same.

I am sitting here (the Bach's finished, so I'll get back to the writing in a minute), trying to find new words for the same ideas. As time has passed since the first ceremony, I like to think that I am a little better now and have a slightly stronger phrase here and there.

But, as discussed before, the concepts are the same (the cycle of nature really hasn't changed that much in the last few months).

This is why it's like French homework; I have the actual words and I'm trying to paraphrase them into something better.

Suddenly I feel thirteen again, trying desperately to find a new, innovative (and not the same as Janice Schofield's) way of translating "Ah, voila Jean-Paul, a l'entree du jardin publique....."

Bon chance, mes amis

It seems that I'm more provincial than I hoped.

2012-01-18T10:01:00.000-08:00

This feels a bit confessional.....

I grew up in a village which had a paper mill and a psychiatric hospital. This has given me a fairly relaxed attitude to mental health and a love of stationery. But not much else.

(The village also had five pubs and three social clubs but, thankfully, I didn’t grow up with a drink problem).

Much as I try to be PC, open-minded and terribly right-on, old prejudices are still in my brain. Take a recent ceremony. My “bit” was followed by a semi-druid ceremony (I’m calling it “semi”, because, as far as I could tell, none of the people were actual druid priests and the folks seemed to have quite a mix of beliefs and ideas, rather than being committed to one particular approach – I think that’s what was getting to me, as much as anything).

It is, perhaps, unusual to have this with a humanist ceremony. Again, it was all a bit of a mish-mash; the deceased had been raised within a faith, but moved away from it. I think I was chosen as somewhere near “neutral” – a blank canvas, if you will, and also because the FD (correctly) guessed that although I wouldn’t lead anything pagan/new age/“alternative”, I wouldn’t object to it either. The friends of the deceased were also a mixed bunch who had developed their own belief systems, taking bits here and there.

I genuinely and truly respect all of this.

But I still wanted to laugh at the first sight of a robe.

Especially when the man wearing it was talking on a mobile and carrying all of his stuff in a Tesco’s bag (although I was pleased to see that it was a “bag for life”).

Was this nervousness on my part? Hysteria caused by the unfamiliarity of it all? Or am I just a bit of a pleb?

There were bits of the ceremony that I liked very much – the sharing of bread and wine (mmm – sound familiar?), with the wish that those present would never be hungry or thirsty. But some of it, calling on spirits, gods and goddesses just wasn’t my cup of English Breakfast.

Of course, as with all ceremonies, my opinions are unimportant; I am there for facilitate which, I hope I did, paying a tribute to the deceased before handing over to the family members who wanted this variation on a ritual. Had there been anything that I was really unhappy about, I would have tactfully suggested that another person might be better at leading their ceremony.

And, of course, all things are relative. There were two pieces of music played. One was a track from the eighties that I knew well, but was considered experimental in its day. The other was a more modern chant, which I thought was just a bit weird and tree-hugging. I played them both to someone younger than me – she thought the chant was fine, but didn’t like the eighties thing – thought it was a bit weird and tree-hugging.....

Perhaps (as many times in life) the music that has taught me the lesson - things are only weird to those experiencing them for the first time. When they are familiar, they become part of our normal.

Ultimately, the family and friends had the ceremony that they wanted; a tribute, time for prayer and their ritual and that’s all that matters.

For me? It was an interesting experience to observe, and taught me a little about myself. Mainly, I learnt that although it’s not big or clever, robes make me smile.

I am a woman with many hidden shallows.

The loneliness of the long-distance celebrant?

2012-01-17T01:58:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's the winter.

Maybe it's the post-Christmas lull

Maybe it's my age.

But I really miss having day to day contact with colleagues.

Now, I'm not running back to the "proper" job - there are more things that I don't miss, trust me. But sometimes, this can feel like a lonely business. We have colleagues, and we work well together (in some, if not all cases) but we are also, sometimes, in competition with each other, and so it doesn't always feel as though we're pulling together.

And our good friends in the dismal trade are also (in the main) jolly good chaps. We live in the same town, we may run into each other, occasionally, outside of work, but we are reliant on them for our income and they can choose whoever they like - we cannot assume that we will get the gigs.

So what is it that I'm actually after? Do you know, I'm really not sure - this is another of those muses sent out into the universe. I'm not lonely in general, I'm lucky enough to have a close family and good friends. It's just this self-employed business takes an awful lot of getting used to!

Peace and love to all.

"She is gone"? Not yet

2011-11-08T03:17:00.000-08:00

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.....?

2011-10-27T07:31:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-01T00:56:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-24T00:58:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-09T01:32:00.001-07:00

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!

2011-05-13T10:33:00.000-07:00

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....

2011-04-06T04:33:00.001-07:00

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

2011-03-28T09:39:00.000-07:00

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....

2011-03-16T11:01:00.000-07:00

... 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

2011-02-27T05:36:00.000-08:00

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...

2011-02-27T05:33:00.000-08:00

...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....

2011-02-23T01:14:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-22T01:26:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-21T00:33:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-25T08:30:00.000-08:00

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

2011-01-04T09:40:00.000-08:00

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.

Whose words are they, anyway?

2010-11-21T02:07:00.000-08:00

Over on Mindfulness and Mortality, Gloria received a comment from Rupert, who always makes a good point.

Rupert tells of a celebrant (sadly one of ours, I fear), who didn't want to hand over the funeral "script" because Rupert also conducts ceremonies.

Well, of this person, I can only say - what a plonker. And this opinion is later backed up by the fact that the celebrant in question appears to have done a major cut and paste job in putting together his ceremony.

So what are the usual practices out there? Speaking for myself, I usually offer the tribute part of the script and the text of any poems or readings discussed. I don't usually offer the whole thing, mostly because it doesn't often get written that quickly. My working method is that I like to write up the tribute within a day or two of the meeting, when memory has a better chance of making up for gaps in the notes. This, I will happily send to the family (explaining that it's a first draft) in order that they can check for accuracy and tone etc.

But the rest of the ceremony, I put together (time allowing) a few days later. I like a bit of time to mull over the person I've been hearing about (while I'm doing the ironing, or similar) and try to think about what to say about life, death and the universe in relation to their lives. These thoughts may remind me of quotes, readings or poems which may be apt - Rupert makes another very valid point about using the right type of readings for the right type of people - not everyone wants Shakespeare.

And so the ceremony itself may not be put together until a little later - by which time I may also have contributions from friends and family and so can think about how best to place them. (Narrative arc, smooth flow and other such creative writing theories).

I am, of course, happy to discuss ideas with the families and to show them bits that I've written, but it's not always practical to give them a full copy of the words before the ceremony.Ideally the ceremony is written a few days before the event itself, to allow for editing, and so is still in draft stage until the day before.

The above is partly "ideal world" stuff - if there are only three days between the visit and the ceremony, then the pulling out of a finger is required, and I have to get on with it. But such ceremonies don't feel quite as polished.

I will hold my hand up and say that I, too, am a fan of the "cut and paste" function. (I tend to describe my ceremonies as "created from scratch" rather than "written from scratch").

There's a quote somewhere about the difference between plagiarism and research being the number of sources - most celebrants are magpies when it comes to finding quotes and readings. But each piece being reused is chosen for its relevance, rather than its convenience. And, at the risk of sounding immodest, I also plagiarise myself, recycling and adapting my own words, where they are right for the person concerned.

Once the ceremony is written and delivered, the words are my responsibility, but no longer my property. A hard copy is given to the family and often I will also put a copy of the transcript on CD, particularly if there are many family members, or people who are far away, to enable them to print other copies or email them where needed.

Being protective of the ceremonies that we produce is understandable, if we sweat blood to write them. But understandable is not the same as right. The words have been read publicly and nowhere does it say "(c) 2010, X Piry".

Being protective of the ceremonies that we produce, if they are largely cut and paste from other sources is just plain daft and suggests an arrogance and paranoia beyond reason.

If anyone else wants the soapbox, I think I've finished with it for now.

Len and Angie

2010-11-15T01:03:00.000-08:00

Normal rules have been abandoned for “Don’t get too close to the furnace” this week. Usually, identities (including mine!) are protected; everyone is called Bert or Ethel, genders are changed, delays are made before telling the tales. But not this time.

In the middle of June, I received a call from a gentleman.
“Hello, we’ve just got engaged and we’re looking for a celebrant.”
“Many congratulations.”
“The wedding is in three weeks time.”
“Wow!”
“Well, that’s because my partner has cancer and has decided not to have any more treatment…..”

And that was the beginning. The next day, I went to meet Len and Angie. It was, of course, Angie who was ill. But you would never have believed it to look at her. Words like “inspiring” and “life force” are overused, but in Angie’s case, they were accurate. Her idea was to create a day of beautiful memories for her friends and, rather crucially, her sons.

So we put the wedding together; appointments were re-arranged and delayed to fit around hospital appointments etc, but it all worked. The ceremony took place in the garden of one of Angie’s friends, there were about 250 guests, children and dogs ran around happily, people sang, passages were read and the ceremony finished with Angie’s singing group (a collection of ladies of a certain age) singing a fantastic version of Born to be Wild. A brilliant wedding on a sunny day. I don’t know who took this photograph, but it sums up the togetherness of the bride and groom, the bright sunshine of the day and the happiness of the occasion.

The town that I live in is not large and most people know everybody, so I heard a week or two later that Len was ill. I dismissed this as Angie being taken poorly and was sad, but didn’t dwell on it.

Three weeks ago, another phone call.
“Hi, It’s Angie.”
“Hello, my lovely. How are you?”
“Not so good. My lovely Len died this morning.”

What I’d heard was true. Len had had some twinges of pain, thought it was an ulcer, probably worsened by a lot of running around, and dismissed it. It turned out to be pancreatic cancer and within four weeks of being diagnosed, Len had died.

So what sort of man was he? I didn’t know him well, but I liked him very much. I liked the way that he smiled and was warm and friendly. He was an artist, who loved our local area and incorporated it into his work. Len seemed to have a calm acceptance of life’s troubles – he would change what he could, and make the best of what he couldn’t. I was asked to do his funeral which had tributes from friends, live music (a woman with an absolutely amazing voice sand Lee Hazelwood’s “Your Sweet Love” while bouncing her baby on her hip!). It had laughs and tears (including mine – I had a wobble which I was cross about, but nobody else minded). Angie was, of course, there, but by this stage she was very poorly herself and had to be brought to the ceremony by private ambulance and stretcher.

I’d just like to add, at this point, that the Funeral Director was absolutely brilliant. He suggested a memorial at home, if Angie couldn’t travel. Because she was determined to be there, he arranged a double time slot (also needed for the number of mourners), making sure that Angie was looked after well. He’s one of Charles’s “recommended” funeral directors and it’s easy to see why.

So the ceremony went well, Angie was taken home and looked after while others went to the wake.

But we all knew that it wouldn't be long.

Within a week, Angie had also died. Given the deterioration in her health between me meeting her to arrange Len’s funeral and the ceremony itself, I was not surprised, but still very saddened.

So, there we all were, back at their house, with Angie’s sons, mother, neighbour etc, making the arrangements for her funeral.

What sort of woman was Angie? She was someone that I wish I had known better.

The funeral director said of her, when we were arranging Len’s ceremony, that it wasn’t as though she was bed ridden, it was like she had just forgotten to get up.

To demonstrate just how positive Angie can be, she spent some time telling me about how powerful it was to spend so much time with the man she loved as they died together, sharing feelings and emotions that most couples don’t get to share. As someone who tends towards anger in life, I found her to be more upbeat than I could possibly imagine.

Angie’s two sons are really great young men. Under the circumstances (she’s had various forms of cancer for nearly seven years), it would be completely understandable if they were obnoxious little …… but they are not, they are balanced, positive, grieving (of course) but very well adjusted young men. The are a tribute to her, and to themselves.

The funeral was another large affair, they were out the doors and in the “spare room” at the local crem where a large screen TV can be set up when there are lots there. Again there were memories and tributes from friends and relatives. Angie’s own words were read, and there was live music.

It was one of those ceremonies which is simultaneously great and awful. I didn’t cry (small, personal victory) but again, it wouldn’t have mattered.

I’m crying as I write this, partly because of the tragedy of the situation (Len was under 50, Angie was 52) but mainly because they were such great people.

All celebrants will, at some point, do ceremonies for miserable old toe rags who, through sheer bloody-mindedness, have lived until they were in their nineties, making a point of aggravating everyone that they come in contact with. But these two? They were keen volunteers for local things, friends to many, creative, intelligent and fun people. No, life isn’t fair.

To many who were there at the ceremony, Len and Angie are together again now, at a place where they had a lovely holiday, both free of pain and worry. It is comforting to think that this is may be true.

I wanted to pay tribute to Angie and Len in this piece and I feel that my words have been inadequate, but they are real, and I’ll finish in the same way that we ended Angie’s funeral, with the words of Robert Burns:

If there’s another world, she lives in bliss.
If there is none, she made the best of this.

Sometimes this job takes chunks out of us. But, my goodness, it’s an honour to do.

Some lighter moments

2010-11-11T03:21:00.000-08:00

I whinge a lot on this blog.

That was not my intention, when I first started to write it.

I thought (and it has been proved) that I would meet a lot of fascinating people, and have lots of stories to tell and so, as a little light relief, I'd like to share a few - silly anecdotes that have made me smile.

There was the gent who tried camping. His first attempt at pitching the tent was to put it over a sewer. His second attempt resulted in the tent being set alight, so he resolved, everafter to "stick to Pontins".

There was the lady who saw a shopping list for her mother in law and added to the bottom "Mills and Boon novels, to improve her intellect."

But I think my favourite is the gent who, many decades ago, used to get together with work colleagues every couple of months, to watch.....films for discerning gentlemen. This was back in the days of cine projectors, and so this gent hung a white bedsheet at the window to use as a screen. The lads arrived, the beers (probably Double Diamond, or Watneys Red Barrel - we are talking that era) were opened and they all settled down for an evening's entertainment.

After about half an hour, there was a knock at the door, with a couple of policemen outside. When this man had hung the sheet, he hadn't drawn the curtains first and so he the sheet was acting as a screen for everyone in the road!

Back to the seriousness later (I have a difficult funeral tomorrow, which I shall no doubt share at a later date), but this is just a bit of light amid the shade.

Every now and again it's important to put the "fun" into "funeral".

The handbag is strong tonight

2010-10-21T00:08:00.000-07:00

Apologies for lack of posting, both on this blog and others. The cold weather is a-comin in and it has been busy in X.Piry land - I hope to catch up soon.

However, a meeting I went to yesterday was very amusing. It was a gathering of the great and the good of the local FDs etc.

I used to think that a good collective noun for FDs would be a "body" of funeral directors. However, after yesterday (handbags at dawn, old rivalries being handled quite politely, I thought that one person was going to be called "my honourable friend" at one point!), I've decided that the right word is an "argument" of FDs.

Fascinating to watch!

Family Visits

2010-10-04T01:42:00.000-07:00

Some people talk a lot but don't say much.

That's two hours of my life I'm never getting back.

'Nuff said, for fear I will incriminate myself.

Rant over.

Too much choice?

2010-09-15T02:16:00.001-07:00

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.

The real test - update

2010-09-05T03:28:00.000-07:00

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.....

The real test

2010-08-26T01:09:00.000-07:00

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.

(Not so) silly season

2010-08-23T02:29:00.000-07:00

It's quiet out there, too quiet.....

Yes, it's that time of year when the funeral directors have time to sit and chat (as it gives them a break from their filing and cleaning), and we watch our workload drop for the summer.

In some ways, it's a "breathing space" a chance to clear our heads ready for the next nasty cold snap.

In my limited experience, however, I've found that these things are self-balancing. There are not so many deaths, but those that do occur make for harder funerals. This week, I have a ceremony for a young lady in her thirties. It's a while since I've experienced that much tangible grief while visiting her family. I want to lessen their pain, but that is not something I am able to do or, frankly, have the right to do. Their grief is their own - I just have to hope that I can make them feel listened to and cared about.

And then, last week, I had a phone call. "You did Ethel Sludgebucket's funeral at Seatown a couple of months ago?"
"Yes I did."
"I was there, I thought it was very good."
"Thank you."
"It's just that my son died yesterday....."

I speak to my father every day. I started doing this after my Mum died to check that he was okay (I live a little distance away) and to make sure that he spoke to somebody every twenty four hours. As it turns out, he has a very full social calendar (we call the road where he lives his "harem") and talks to more people than I do. But he is a very good listener. I share these experiences with him, and he makes all the right noises.

I hope that all celebrants/ministers/officiants have someone like this. They make our job much easier, especially during the not so silly season.

Death of a supermarket revolutionary

2010-08-04T00:02:00.000-07:00

So, Theo Albrecht, the man who, along with his brother, brought us the Aldi supermarket chain, has died.

According to the article, his funeral, a private burial, has already taken place.

But you know that you’re in the funeral business when you read about a death, and wonder how the ceremony will go.

Now, please understand, I mean no disrespect to Heir Albrecht or to his shops (I’m as happy to buy cheap groceries as anyone), but I began to ponder his funeral, if it was like a visit to one of his stores.

Of course, like a bargain laptop, everyone would have to wait until they’ve got a coffin available, so there could be a bit of a delay, and then a quick “window of opportunity”, while caskets are in stock.

On the day itself, mourners would arrive, but not too early, due to the restrictions on parking (can’t be more than an hour, or it won’t be free). The spaces would be small, and there is nowhere in particular for the hearse to go.

An order of service would be available, giving all of the details in eight different languages.

When the FD and his team arrive, they would look very like any other FD….but not quite. Their uniforms are slightly different, and don’t fit too well, but they cover all the important bits, so job done. The coffin is a little dented and scratched, but still serves its purpose.

The flowers would be just inside the door of the chapel, wrapped in bright cellophane and stuck in a cardboard box.

The coffin would be carried in, very fast, and then the bearers would stand, like check out operatives, looking impatient as the mourners make their way to their seats (accompanying music? Money’s too tight to mention?). And, of course, there would be no fancy carved catafalque; the coffin would be on a pallet.

Finally, everyone is in, the FD returns to his bearers, who all bow, in respect to the man in the box. And then we hear the little clicks, as they each get their £1 back from their trolley.

This is meant as a bit of fun, rather than a poke at Mr Albrecht. I wish him and his family nothing but good. But it makes you wonder, doesn’t it? How popular would the supplier of the “no frills” funeral be? There are a few breaking into the market now, so let’s see how they do.

Get off my land - update

2010-07-21T06:51:00.001-07:00

Thanks to Gloria and Charles for their comments on my earlier post.

I was working in Coastville last week with an FD who is based in a small place between there and Seatown.

"So, lovely Mr FD", I asked, "Why can't I get any work in Seatown?"

His answer was, plain and simply, the competition.

There are some independents (mostly former registrars from what he was saying) and FDs will give them a chance. Fair enough, they did the same for me a couple of years ago.

I was almost relieved with his answer - I was beginning to suffer from the "oh no, what have I done to upset everyone?" paranoia common to many in this game.

So, I need to make sure that I remind the Seatown FDs of my existence, and smile my sweetest smile when I visit, hoping that my card goes on the top of the pile for a while.

My big fear is that the hordes of competition move into Coastville - then I am snookered.

Charles asked whether or not being a celebminister is a viable way to earn a living. Possibly not, but here's the rub. To be a celebminister, you have to be available. Very few FDs ring up and ask "When are you free?" before making their bookings - we are too far down the food chain for that. And if we're not free, somebody else will be.

This level of availability is not always easy, if you're doing other work. I was very lucky that I was allowed a form of flexi-time, but this is not available, or practical, for everyone.

I do also do namings and weddings (in the midst of death, we are in life...) and a few other (very minor) bits and pieces, so I'n not entirely reliant on the dead. But I would be in shtuck if I had no funerals at all.

Still, the fear is one of the things that makes us do our best, go the extra mile and try to make that ceremony exceed expectations. It's a hunger that I don't want to lose.

A good time to die?

2010-07-13T01:08:00.000-07:00

A tale of two gents.

When I was doing my training, back in the 18th century (well, that's how it feels now), I went with my mentor to visit a family. A gent had died who was well into his nineties and had lived a good, full life. He had enjoyed good health for most of his many years; his final illness had been sudden and short.

His daughter was (understandably) very upset, as her dad still had so many things that he wanted to do.

After that visit, I came to the conclusion that it's better to die while you're still living and still have plans and enthusiasm, rather than after a lot of suffering.

This week, I met the family of another gent. Again, he was a good age and had lived a contented life. But for the last two years he's been unwell and unhappy. The loss of independence caused by his illness was difficult for him to bear and he was simply waiting for it all to end.

Death is inevitable and in both cases I think we could conclude, given the ages of the gents involved, that these are sad, rather than tragic circumstances. But the question in the title of my post comes from the feelings of the families in the two cases.

The daughter of the first gent, despite her father's great age, still felt angry and cheated. Yes, these are normal and expected grief reactions, particularly in the case of an unexpected death, but there was that feeling that Dad had somehow been cut off in his prime.

The sister of the second gent was much calmer, possibly even relieved. The prevailing sentiments were "it was time" and "he was ready to go".

So when is a good time to die? Well, obviously, at the age of 150, while asleep, after a good meal, some fine wine, and any other....pleasures.

But to be serious, this is another question without an answer; there are no rights or wrongs, no easy or hard solutions. The reactions above may have had as much to do with the relationships as the circumstances, but as much as we all say "I want to go while I'm having fun", those left behind would nearly always like a little more notice, and a bit more of a feeling that the right thing has happened.

Keep well, all.

Get off my land!

2010-07-09T03:23:00.000-07:00

If this were an ideal world, Charles, Gloria, Jonathan, Rupert and others would all live in the same town as me. We would meet for coffee every couple of weeks, in a cafe that sold calorie-free cake.

We would all have as much work as we wanted.

And for those of us who are celebrants/ministers/officiants/gobs on sticks, we would know that the following happened – when a funeral director meets a family, they would spend a lot of time, asking the family what they wanted, and letting know all of the options available (including the things that they don’t “have” to have). If the family has said that they want an officiant, the FD would then go away and think long and hard to get the best match from their extensive list of ministers. They would think about the family that they have met and the personality of their ministers and would put together those that will work well together and will produce the best possible funeral; a triumph, a memorable occasion which enables the family to move on with their grief in the best way possible to them.

I don’t live in an ideal world. I live in a place that we shall call Seatown. I am also about fifteen miles from Coastville, and about twenty-five miles from Poshbourne. We have an established celebrant in the latter, but I’m sometimes called upon for holiday cover.

My esteemed mentor (She who must be obeyed) used to live in Coastville, but has moved to pastures new in another part of the country. I miss her guidance and her humour but it is honest to say that I am very grateful for her workload.

And this is because FDs are busy people, who do not go through their list of celebrants like a casting director, and think about who best will match their family. My experience suggests that the thought process is more along the lines of:

What sort of minister?
Non-religious.
Is that the same as humanist?
Close enough.
Who did we use last time?
X.Piry.
She any good?
No complaints.
Okay. What’s her number?

And that’s on a good day.

Now, I am probably doing many FDs a lot of disservice. But I think there’s a lot in the “who did we use last time” argument. Unless there’s a reason to use someone different (such as a specific request, or wanting a man, rather than a woman, etc) then it’s sound. It’s a bit like when you have a complaint with the gas board, and you know that someone called Angela was helpful. You will go back to Angela, because she did what you wanted her to do and kept you informed, and listened to you....

Now, the BHA would be happy to train a lot of celebrants who live in Seatown, Coastville, Poshbourne and anywhere else that good candidates apply. There is some evidence to back up the argument that having more celebrants on the ground does increase ceremony numbers.

Fine – but does it increase it enough? Conducting ceremonies (not just funerals) is my main source of income. Therefore, I have an average number per week/month/year that I would like to conduct to pay the bills and feed my chocolate habit.

If someone new trained in Poshbourne, then I would not get any holiday cover work there.
The other problem that I have is that currently, in Seatown, I cannot seem to get any work. To my knowledge, I have neither messed up or upset anyone, but there is a strong presence from the civil celebrants and a very good independent celebrant who is well known in the town. There are one or two FDs who have me at the top of their “godless” list, but this is not a very godless place, so between the competition and the retired vicars, I would be letting Cadbury go out of business, if I was only reliant on Seatown.

Coastville, however, treats me well. It keeps me busy and I am grateful. So how would I feel if someone from Coastville wanted to train there?

Panicky would be an obvious reaction (please don’t make me go back to office work, anything, but that, guv). After all, although I feel fairly established in Coastville, I work hard to produce good ceremonies, and to make myself easy to work with for the FDs, would someone on the doorstep be a more attractive proposition for them?

The BHA might feel that I have Seatown to work with, but I refer you to my comments above.So, if the BHA trained up someone on the way to Poshbourne and someone in Coastville, I would by right up effluent creek and lacking a method of propulsion.

And this is why local celebrants resist the training of new celebrants. It feels like a constant matter of tension. But what are the options?

If we don’t train a good candidate – what will they do? They may wait (I did), but for how long? Alternatively, unless they are dyed in the wool humanists (a rare breed) then they can simply train with another organisation or simply start out on their own. Thus, they become the competition.

If we do train a good candidate – what will I do? Have a huff moment and give up my BHA accreditation? And then what – be an independent celebrant with a lot of experience (and relationships with FDs), but the new BHA celebrant will still be there and will be my competition. There are pros and cons to being a BHA celebrant, and there are pros and cons to being independent, so neither has an absolute advantage.

So what do we do? Most people want to become celebrants because they have been to an inspiring ceremony. Good celebrants make a ceremony look easy. The recruitment process should be tough and hard to get through (I believe that it is, we are very careful who we train), but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t thousands of people out there who would make good celebrants.

If we recruit them all, we would have a huge network of quality people. And we would have some who would have to leave because they can no longer get enough work to sustain their lifestyles (I know of at least one colleague in the last year who has done this, in an area with a lot of independent competition).

No celebrants are in this for the money, but for those of us who have chosen (and yes, it is our choice, I accept that) to make this an almost full time career, then we need to have regular numbers of ceremonies.

There are some celebrants who don’t want to do a huge volume of funerals. I met a chap a couple of years ago who told me that he didn’t have the “emotional hardware” for more than one a fortnight. That’s fair enough and people like him are great for cover, etc. It’s also one of those professions where you don’t actually know what you’ll be able to cope with until you’re doing it and can see what it’s doing to you.

There is room in the network for celebrants with all sorts of workload requirements. The difficulty is getting the balance right.

I’ve really rambled on enough for now, and so I’d like to throw this open to anyone who’d like to share an opinion.

What do you guys think?

Should children go to funerals?

2010-07-09T03:17:00.000-07:00

Well, as a rule, yes, if you ask me (but few do).

I had a situation recently where I was talking to a mourner who obviously felt "no". She told me that she didn't have anyone to leave her kids with, so they were sitting in the car.

I was a bit concerned as it was a warm day, but I think she left the window open, a couple of bonios and a bowl of water.

On another occasion, some children came along. The daughter of the deceased got up to speak, and was struggling. Each breath seemed to constrict her throat further. She managed to say "sorry!" but not a word of her tribute.

Just as I was trying to reassure her to take her time, a small voice (the lady's nephew) called out "Hurry Uuuuppp!!"

It was a great moment, everyone laughed and the tension was broken. Including in this lady, who was then able to read her tribute without a fault.

Not counting the deceased, this little angel was "man of the match", I reckon.

Training with the shoe on the other foot

2010-06-28T07:04:00.000-07:00

Contrary to popular belief, the BHA regularly takes on new funeral celebrants.

If there is evidence to the contrary, this is because local celebrants resist someone new on their patch (but that is a post for another day).

As I’m now nearly at 200 ceremonies under my belt and I inevitably end up training, no matter what job I do, I thought I would become a trainer for the BHA.

I had to apply and go through a selection process (which was more nerve-wracking than I think that it needed to be, but a useful exercise) and I have now completed the first training sessions for the latest group.

They’re a good bunch, keen as mustard, well read, very thoughtful and keen to listen to others. Looking back, I’m not convinced that my own intake group was as strong, but hey ho. I think that the selection process has improved and so before we waste the trainees and our own time and money, more weeding is done.

The training has been great fun and, as I’ve always found in the past, one learns as much as one teaches in these situations. Candidates come up with readings, music and experiences that are new to me, as well as turns of phrase or outlooks that are refreshing.

And, of course, they send me their sample funerals to mark, so I can nick all of these lovely phrases and poems, adding to my own collections (never let it be said that I’m entirely altruistic!).

In a way, the training is a frustrating exercise – how much can we actually teach these good people? Can anyone really learn to be a funeral celebrant?

We can help with logistics and technical stuff (“this is how Wesley works”, “most FDs like to do…”) and we can share our experience. But ultimately, it is our individuality that makes us good at what we do and that cannot be trained.

And what of the non-technical side of things (“you may not want to take your holidays in February”)?

As with all things, it’s a function of getting the balance right. We are trying to develop a professional network with high standards (a rubbish humanist celebrant makes us all look bad), but how do we maintain those standards without producing “standard” funerals? And the day we start doing that, is the day I leave the network.

A good funeral is the one that the family wants; all we can do is try our hardest to give our trainees the tools, resources, guidance and mentoring to do that. And, of course, the support they need when they’re up and running.

It’s been fun and I look forward to doing more of it.

Standing on the shoulders of giants

2010-06-14T07:33:00.000-07:00

Charles had a great guest post from Rupert.

Gloria, wishing to give it the full response it deserved, put a fab post on her blog.

I was going to make a comment, but found that, like Gloria, I had a lot that I wanted to say. If anyone is interested, here's my tuppence worth. Thanks for the debate. It isn't always comfortable but, my goodness, it's fascinating!

So, although Gloria wants to move on from funerals, I'm happy to stick with them for the time being, if anyone else wants to join in.

Rupert’s post was fantastic, as was Jonathan’s response (I was glad and relieved to see the “we can’t all do it the same way”). This has been extremely thought provoking and I hope that we will all produce better ceremonies on the strength of it.

1) Titles – according to my dictionary (a Collins, sorry, I was never posh) definition 6 of the word “minister” is “a person who attends to the needs of others, esp. in religious matters”. So why not be humanist/atheist/secular/free-thinking ministers? We often get called it anyway, so why not adopt it?

2) Combining celebrancy and undertaking - I too would struggle with many aspects of undertaking, and agree that not many could do both roles. Good for Rupert that he can.

3) Letting families see the words before the ceremony - When families are feeling out of control, as many are after a death, they like to have some control over what we’re doing, and viewing the words can be a way of giving that to them. I rarely send the whole script, but I often send the tribute/eulogy part. However, at the end of the meeting, I usually go back through my notes. Not only can I check that I have details correct, but the family can also understand that they have been listened to. Most find this extra ten minutes or so at the end of the meeting very reassuring.

4) How honest should we be? - I agree with GloriaMundi and Jonathan that the euphemisms can be useful. Perhaps we are colluding and I always resist turning the deceased into a saint, but the funeral doesn’t have to be the time for hanging out dirty laundry, unless the family are finding it cathartic and useful. Yes, we can observe what we see and, as others have stated, the balance is everything.

5) Humanists are Anti-theists according to Rupert. Gloria, you are so right. We’re not all Richard Bloody Dawkins! (Okay, your response was much more eloquent than this). Many humanists hate fundamentalism in all of its forms.

6) Time allowed for a ceremony - Sometimes twenty minutes is too long. Sometimes a double time slot at the end of the day is not enough. That’s one of the things that we’re there for. Getting it all in without feeling rushed; that’s the ticket. And again, some families just want the damn thing over with. “Ten minutes will be fine” they say. Who am I to pad it out with a full rendition of The Glory of the Garden and the whole of The Lark Ascending? I try to talk them through all of the options, but if they want short and sweet, it’s what they’ll have.

7) Untrained/unindoctrinated? - I agree that training helped in the initial stages. It also helps us to give FDs and families some confidence that we do know what we’re doing (otherwise the AOIC would not have spent a lot of time recently promoting their diploma). Of course, there are untrained celebrants who are brilliant, and trained ones who are sh…not. Not sure what the answer is on that one, but glad that I had something to work with and grow from. I guess it’s a bit like learning to drive. Once you’ve passed your test you’re safe to be let out there, but you really learn to drive when you’ve got a few miles under your wheels.

8) How much sorrow? – It’s a difficult one. I sometimes worry that I don’t put people “through the wringer” enough. Ultimately, as Jonathan says, we can’t feel others’ pain or know what they are feeling. My own experiences of grief have been quite private, only really allowing myself to be overwhelmed when alone. Maybe this says more about me than I would like.

8a) How much emotion should we show? I don’t think it matters if we are showing that we are hurting or saddened by the circumstances. But by the same token, we are there (and being paid) to do a job and part of that is to keep control of proceedings. Again, it’s getting the balance right that matters.

9) Public or private event? Sometimes either, sometimes both. It depends where the family members are in their grieving. We have to be able to do all three.

10) Breaking the mask to allow the grief through? – No Gloria, I don’t think that you’re being cowardly or too modest. We are there, as I said above, to conduct a ceremony. We aspire to do that with understanding of all of the above, with the sensitivity that our own personalities and experiences bring, and providing the ceremony that the family wants. We try to assess whether they want something that will have everyone howling with sorrow, crying with laughter or something in between. I admire Rupert’s stance (and would love to attend one of his ceremonies, as I am sure that they are magnificent), but I would wonder if they suit everybody? Some families want the shallow ceremony – who are we to say that we are wrong. Yes, we should always try to do more than they want, to surprise them (in a good way) by adding that something extra that helps them grieve, but we are not there to tell them how to do it.

Reading these blogs have made me feel as though I am a really crap celebrant/officiant/minister (especially after the day I've had), but I'm glad that I can read them as they are making me a better one.

Thank you

I think I know how Rob Green feels

2010-06-14T06:28:00.001-07:00

I'm in the middle of a bad week.

Firstly, my favourite FD has sold his business. It was a lovely, small co; he ran a place on one side of town, his partner ran a similar place on the other and they pooled a few resources between them. Of course, I wish him a long and happy retirement, but I shall miss him. He's a nice guy - one of those chaps that the families always praise when I visit them. And he and his partner have sold to a local chain; I don't yet know which one, but I have my suspicions. I'm sure that they will also do their best for their clients, but I feel the icy finger of "corporate", which worries me. I understand that my mate (who, incidentally, was the first FD to give me any work) will be around for a few months, but it still makes me sad that he'll be off after that.

Secondly, I had a weird moment. I met a family to help look after their Mum's arrangement. When I was asking how I should address Mum in the ceremony, they said a word that's not a name......except it was also my Mum's nickname! I had to explain to them why I looked so shocked when they said it, after all, I had never expected to do a ceremony with that name. It was also weird writing "I didn't have the pleasure of knowing......", and using my Mum's name because clearly, I did know her, and it's thanks to her contribution to the gene pool that I have a lifelong battle with facial hair. (TMI? Sorry, I like to share).

Thirdly, and this is the kicker, I've just come home from a nearby crem. It's taken until ceremony number 192, but I have finally reached the moment I've been expecting and dreading, the "funeral-ruining moment that's all my fault."

I had been told that the family wanted the curtains left open. When I double checked with them at the meeting, we decided that we would have the committal right at the end and, in my head, this meant close the curtains on the way out.

The ceremony went well, contributors spoke well, there was music, the eulogy was well received. Then, right at the end, as I'm saying my words of committal, I pressed the button and the curtains started to close.

"X.Piry. Can you stop the curtains" said the chief mourner. Unfortunately, on that particular lectern there is no return switch.

I apologised, of course, and as soon as I had left the chapel, the attendant went and opened them again (I now know where that particular button is), so that the family etc could have their moment with the coffin. But I felt absolutely dreadful.

In many ways, I was very lucky. This was a relatively calm family, and the gent who had died had lived a long and full life with a few months of illness at the end. If there had been people in the hysterical stages of grief, it would have been even more awful. I apologised to everyone, and folks (including the family) still said nice things about the ceremony, but I could have kicked myself.

When I make a mistake, I always try to take something positive from it, things I could do to stop it recurring and to make it better if it does happen again. Well, I can do the latter, as my final closing words were rather swallowed in the confusion. I should have read them all again to let people hear them.

But could I stop this happening again? I need to make my notes clearer; cross out for change of mind and underline for "yes, that's definitely what they want". I already check and double check, so a triple check might work, but ultimately, I'd got the idea in my head, so may not have believed my own notes, no matter how many times I'd read them.

So, all in all, I'm feeling extremely upset and cross with myself. It could have been a lot worse, but it could have been better. Ultimately, I know I've got to learn from it and move on, but I fear complacency, hence my legendary ability to beat myself up.

I think I will make a contribution to the family's collection - as an apology, rather than an attempt to right the situation with money. Apart from that, what can I do?

I must be like Robert Green, the ball went into the goal and it was my fault. But I've come home to emails about the next ceremonies and I can't let this mistake ruin more than one funeral. I've got to pick myself up, and make sure that my arm is in the right place for the save in the second half.

It's the only way I can still get picked as no 1.

Thank you for listening.

Apologies for lack of posting

2010-05-08T04:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry for the long gap since my last post.

I don't like to make excuses (and this may sound like either bragging or complaining - neither intended), but in the last seven weeks, I've taken 25 funerals. This has been quite a "purple patch" for me, but it has meant that I haven't raised my head above the parapet much.

They've been a mixed bag; including a couple of people that I had previously met - one because I had done a ceremony for her husband just a few months ago. I know that "broken heart syndrome" is not uncommon, but this person was not a candidate as far as I could tell. The other was a lady who knew that she had a terminal illness and so called me a few months ago as she wanted to arrange her funeral.

This was a bit weird, but is something that we get asked to do. I was a little surprised not to meet her family too, but that was her choice. Given that control of her life had been taken away from her, then it's perhaps not surprising that she wanted to have some power over her funeral.

However, this meant that the control was taken away from those who usually have it. After the lady had died and I went to meet her husband and children, I felt a distinct chill and I don't blame them. No doubt my lady felt that she was "saving them the worry" as well as making sure that she had the music etc that she wanted. She had also left time for them to make their tributes and say their pieces, but still, they seemed a little adrift. The lady had died quicker than anticipated, due to complications with her illness, so that was likely to be a factor.

Looking back, I wish we'd done this differently, but what could I do? I can advise, I can suggest and I can give examples. But I am not there to tell people what to do, and if this lady wanted to take care of it all, I either had to go along with it or walk away.

I'm feeling pretty tired at the moment. I realise that to some (especially those who work to a more fixed ceremony structure), then I probably seem like a complete wimp and making a fuss about what is, after all, about 3 1/2 ceremonies a week. However, with other bits of work that I do, and the amount of time it can take to visit a family, write the ceremony, check it and then deliver it, the last couple of months has been an exercise in time management. It got to the point where if I had the words prepared, my clothes ironed and ready, the cat fed, and I hadn't run out of milk, then I considered myself ahead of the game.

I'm not asking for sympathy; this is my job, after all. I'm just explaining my absence (and lack of activity on other blogs) in the hope that anyone cares.

Off on my hols for a week, after another little adventure (details to follow in a later post), so I hope that all are healthy and happy, that the sun is shining on you and that the Icelandic ash doesn't prevent me sitting by a pool in a Mediterranean Resort.

Good vibes to all

Something positive

2010-03-17T01:48:00.001-07:00

I realise that I usually complain a lot on this blog.

However, I have the story of an absolutely cracking funeral. And I'm not being immodest. One of the reasons that it was so great was that I had very little to do with it!

The deceased was a singer who had reached a good age. His son is the most organised man on the planet. He arranged the whole thing, we had running orders, he'd lined up the contributors, and, following our discussions, we'd even allowed some contingencies if the contributors ran over time. We had a double time slot, and he had been to the venue at least twice to check out the location, the sound system and anything else he wanted to know (even how long the curtains take to close...). This was a great case of the family taking as much control of the funeral as they wanted. The FD and I simply stood by and acted on our instructions.

This man (the son) has a great energy and dynamism about him, and so although the control freak in me usually resists being told what to do, I just didn't mind in this case.

And it worked beautifully. The music sounded great. We didn't get to have the "open mic" slot we'd hoped for when folks could stand up and say what they wanted, because of time constraints, but that was our contingency. They were all off to a great celebration afterwards, so no doubt many stories were being shared there.

Never have I had so much praise for doing so little. Yes, I still gave a lot of time and consideration to the bits that I was saying (finding the right quotes, etc), but in comparison with many ceremonies, I didn't have to do as much. The tributes were all coming from the family and friends who knew the gent, I was just audience and button presser.

So many people afterwards said "That's what I want...." which is very gratifying (although they will need to get the gent's son involved, as he was the one who did it all). I was just the MC, the Assistant Stage Manager, the gob on a stick.

It was an honour and a privilege to do.

Apologies
I would like to apologise to Rupert who, accurately, chastised me for not responding to his comments. I have now responded to his direct question by email and I would like to apologise for my rudeness.

I don't always reply to comments on the blog - although it's my blog, I don't want it ever to be a place where folks may want to comment (particularly if they disagree with me) and feel that they can't because I'm going to come back arguing.

However, I am very grateful to all who read it and who take the time to comment - it is appreciated, even if I don't make that plain.

Is it common to talk about money?

2010-03-09T01:27:00.000-08:00

I've just had a conversation with a funeral arranger that has left me feeling uncomfortable.

I opened my cheque from this company, to find that they had paid me last year's fee. Mine went up at the beginning of this year. I rang to say that it wasn't a problem, but please could they amend my records to reflect the new figure?

It would appear that the answer is "no".

The reason is that my fee is more than £10 higher than the local clergy. Now, I'm not in the business of promoting myself by criticizing others, but what I didn't say is that each of my ceremonies is composed from scratch, word by word. Yes, there are some readings and ideas that are universal and get re-used, but they are all re-written for the individual concerned - I don't have a standard service to follow.

I am aware that the best clergy also personalise everything and spend a great deal of time with their families and that there are probably bad humanists who just knock out their standard service without much thought (if there are, then people should complain - I don't want such people giving us all a bad name). But I take my work very seriously, I invest a lot of time in each ceremony and I don't think that what I get as an hourly rate is particularly high, when the full amount of time that each one takes, from start to finish, is taken into account. It's not as though anyone becomes a celebrant to get rich!

I also didn't talk about the ceremonies that I don't charge for (such as the ones for the very small people).

I'm not much of a negotiator (as you can tell), so I more or less backed down right away. I'm still sufficiently new at this that the fear of losing work is greater than the fear of losing a few quid.

But now I feel like the stuff I clear from the litter tray.

At best, I will lose a few quid each time I work for this FD, but, at worst, I won't work for this FD again and will get known as a money grabber. (Forgive me, I have an active imagination and occasional paranoia).

I wish I hadn't made the call now, but I guess that it's better to talk about this stuff then not.

The arranger said that he had received some very good feedback about my work and was happy to recommend me, but was worried about pushing my services when my fee is so much more and funerals are already so expensive. Yes, they are, and in the scheme of things my fee is a very small proportion when the family also has a limousine and flowers and.....

I'll get over it; I always do. I'll go and see the arranger and make sure that we're still friends. It wasn't an angry call on either side, but it has left me with a nasty taste in my mouth.

Ah well.....onwards.

Shortchanging the dead - update

2010-03-03T14:36:00.000-08:00

Many thanks for the kind comments to the previous post.

Well, we're through the other side and I'm delighted to say that it went....okay....ish. Or at least better than expected.

I wish I'd read Charles's comments earlier - I did as he suggested but not, I feel, as eloquently as he would.

I put in lots of thoughts on life and death, our connectionswith others, how the deceased will live on through the family and memories of those who love him....

I explained that humanist funerals can include tributes to the deceased, but in this case, his family had asked that those present be given time to think about him and to reflect upon what made him special to them (I'm paraphrasing, but you get the drift.....)

What actually saved us today was nothing to do with me (of course), it was the music. The family had chosen pieces which hadn't looked promising on paper, but they actually worked really well.

It wasn't a long service and I still feel it would have been better with a fuller tribute, but it didn't turn into the train wreck that I'd been fearing and for that, I'm glad.

I didn't get quite my usual quota of handshakes and "thank you very much" afterwards, but the fact that I got any was a pleasant surprise.

Ultimately, the dignity and the very nature of the occasion seemed to win out.; egos were put aside (hopefully mine, too), and there were expressions of sorrow, but not anger. It was all pleasantly calm. Now, whether or not that's the right way to grieve? I'm no psychologist, but it did mean that the whole thing passed off without aggravation and additional upset. There had been enough of that already. I'm glad that there was some resting in peace.

Shortchanging the Dead

2010-03-02T02:59:00.000-08:00

It's been very busy just recently (ten ceremonies in as many days) and so I am (happily) working all hours so that none of my families feel anything other than theirs is the only funeral I have to work on.

But one family has made me cross. The deceased was brought up in a very religious family but has moved away from his faith. As a result, he wants a non-religious ceremony, which is why I was called.

I met with his son, who told me some lovely tales of his father's life, some stuff was funny, other stuff really demonstrated that the deceased had the human frailties of us all, but that he was essentially a decent man.

I spent Sunday afternoon writing up the tribute part of the ceremony. Yes, I had included
some of the funny bits, but I was, essentially painting my usual picture of the chap - not ignoring his faults, but emphasising his qualities.

Then, yesterday morning, I got a call from the son that I had met. Apparently his elder sister thinks that we are taking the mickey out of Dad, and so I was given dictation over the phone of what they want me to say. It will take me about 90 seconds, tops.

I could certainly (and would willingly) tone down the funny bits of the tribute, if the family wanted, but I'm not even allowed to do that. I am to say exactly as I've been told. I warned the son that we wouldn't have many words in the ceremony, and he seemed to accept that, giving me to understand that this is more to do with the lack of a faith leader in the ceremony than anything else.

This has made me somewhat cross.

The deceased isn't getting a fitting tribute, and I am short changing him, but yes, he is dead, and the ceremony is for his family, so they must have what they want. It doesn't sit well with me, though.
I don't want anyone thinking that this is a typical humanist ceremony. I will do my best with what I can, and explain (tactfully) that the structure of the ceremony is at the family's request, but it is going to be a very poor show, and that worries me.
If I were a religious minister, would I be as flexible? Or would I insist on certain things in the ceremony. Probably, but I don't think that the stuff I'm being asked to leave out can come under any heading of "essential" if the family don't want it.
I could have spent that time so much better on another family's ceremony.

Talking of time, I should now get back to the job in hand. But this is a very frustrating situation. In my heart I would like to say "oh, go and find yourself a minister", but that wouldn't be the deceased's wishes either, and I think that some of us should defend them.

Ultimately, I'm just here to do what the family want. What a shame they want such a rubbish thing.

Venting etc update

2010-01-30T03:09:00.000-08:00

I never have to speak to that bloody man again.

In hindsight, and in the cooling down of tempers (okay - temper....mine) I have had pangs of guilt. This man is grieving. This person has lost someone very dear to him. This man is floundering alone in the world.

And then I remember the correspondence we shared in which he said "well, I am sad that we haven't been able to spend as much time on this as I would have hoped".

Oh for ......goodness sake! He may not have done - probably because he was too busy sorting out his new bathroom, trying to get people to contribute to the ceremony (who really weren't that interested) and floating around saying "but I need to have this ceremony". I however, did spend a lot of time on the ceremony, talking to those who could be interested enough to contribute, trying to get information out of people who were leaving it all to this bloody man, and trying to write a ceremony despite constant interruptions from the annoying little....soldier.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Anyone reading this would probably be horrified and think that I'm completely unsympathetic at a time when someone is grieving a loss. I'm really not. I'm just human, and there are some behaviours that get right on my threepennies, and his behaviour was demanding, clinging and solipsistic. It was only the fact that I knew that he was grieving that prevented me from telling him to shove the whole ceremony right up his.....

Deep breaths, deep breaths. I must go to my happy place....

By way of contrast, the funeral without the body was quite an experience.

Firstly, for the outdoor bit, we had to walk to the top of a hill. Perhaps I should explain - I don't do outdoors, and I don't do exercise (which explains my trim and youthful physique), and so was glad that we had a bit of milling around at the top of the hill, as it enabled me to get my breath back.

Once there, this was relatively familiar ground - a tribute to the deceased, some readings from loved ones, a moment of silence for reflection and/or prayer.

Then we went to the indoor venue, and the bit that I was dreading, the "and who would like to speak now" part. These have an element of chaos about them, and I know that chaos is wonderful and human and spontaneous, but I worry that as I'm there (and, let's be honest, being paid) to keep order, I want to do my job properly, and to the standard that folks want.

The initial discussions with the family had been to have a completely open ended thing, but I suggested that we would need some kind of finish to the semi-formal bit, before the whole thing descends into what is simply a social gathering, when people talk about last week's match, rather than focusing on the deceased. Not that there's anything wrong with the social stuff, but that's not what I've been asked there for.

It was fine. Siblings of the deceased read some pre-prepared words. The lady's children and partner did the same. Another relative had written a lovely poem. A former colleague said what a nice person she had been to work for, it was all very moving.

There is a slightly weird thing that happens in that, because I'm the person who has thrown open the floor, people start telling their anecdotes to me, rather than the room. It makes me feel like a television news reporter - the ones you see deliberately nodding as their interviewee speaks.

The other thing that I found was that I took on an awful lot more emotion than I was expecting. I had never known the deceased, and although she seemed like a very nice person and I liked her children and partner, I wasn't expecting to feel any more emotional involvement than I feel at other ceremonies.

Yet, after hearing all of these stories and recollections, many said through tears, when I returned to my folder for the concluding words, I struggled to get through them. I had to take a deep breath, and hope that it sounded as though I needed to clear my throat, rather than fighting tears of my own.

It's almost hypocritical to get upset about the death of a stranger, and yet, is it? This was a young(ish) person who seemed like one of the good guys. During ceremonies we often talk about our connections with others - the "no man is an island" idea, so perhaps I just got a bit upset because the bell was tolling for us all, and that I was sharing the sadness that these apparently good people were feeling?

Or maybe it was body chemistry, adrenaline dissipating as the relief that it had gone okay was starting to kick in. Whatever it was, I got through it, stayed as short a time as was decent (I didn't want to feel like Banquo's Ghost), and made my way home via a shop that sold delicious but not healthy food (see note above about climbing hills).

And of course, it wasn't over then, as there was the delicate matter of my fee. After all, no FD had been involved to pass me a little brown envelope in a pseudo-masonic handshake. I resolved this by sending them a copy of the words that I had said at both venues, and including a list of contributors and including an invoice in the envelope. The good people paid straight away - what a relief!

Of course, for me it's now all over; my papers are shreddedand my electronic file is archived. For them, it's a whole new reality and one that they don't want.

Love and peace to all.

Venting and Funerals without Bodies

2010-01-17T06:55:00.000-08:00

Perhaps I should get my rant out of the way first?

I'm dealing with the arrangement of a very elderly gent and right now I want to kick one of his children. This person (known as "that bloody man" in our house) is being vague, evasive, floaty, and has started playing games that I don't want to play.

Yes, I know - he's grieving and not himself.

I'm used to grieving people, I accept that you sometimes have to ask the question many times to get the answer, because they don't have strong concentration, I understand that people display their upset through short-tempered behaviour and (occasional) downright rudeness, I know that people are not at their best when they have been through a dreadful emotional trauma.

But I still want to give this person a very hard slap.

It's the age old problem of them turning the whole thing around to themselves, and moving away from the deceased.

So far I've had to deal with this person's difficult family relationships (I wonder why people fall out with him?), his discussions with his priest (oh, how I wish that that revered individual was conducting the ceremony!), his home improvements and the fact that he seems unable to give a straight answer to a straight question. I don't think that the man's a politician, but it's certainly a career option for him!

This is a person who does an awful lot of talking without saying much, and in terms of information about his dearly departed parent there has been practically nothing.

And now, when I've tried to call at a pre-arranged time, he's not there. It feels to me like he's trying playing power games, but he can play on his own. I am here to support, to write and conduct the best ceremony I can with the information that I'm given (if any), and to be polite and professional when I speak to him.

I am not here to validate his existence. I have enough insecurities of my own to worry about.

Thankfully these people are few. Otherwise, I would have to take up smoking.

Rant over. Thank you for being there.

Funeral without a body.

Also coming up this week, but with people who have been much more forthcoming about info and generally easier to deal with, will be a ceremony without a body. I don't know when the actual funeral is happening, but the lady's family didn't want the "conveyor belt" and "claustrophobic" feel of the local crem and a wooden box, and so they are letting the undertaker deal with the body (I believe that they are going to do something with the ashes, later) and we are holding the funeral ceremony at a separate venue on a separate day.

Part of me is dreading it - these things can be so free and easy ("and who would like to speak now") that it is easy for them to descend into chaos, and so I'm working hard with the chief mourners to make sure we have some kind of structure, however loose it is. Apparently some of the family are a little unsure about it all (understandable, we're going into unfamiliar territory), but if those who knew the lady best feel that it's what she should have wanted, and if it's what they need, for their grieving, then that's what they shall have.

I was discussing it with a colleague, and here we got into interesting territory. "I'm surprised that they don't want to accompany her on her final journey", my colleague said. To most of us, on the secular side, that journey's already been made, and this is just a memorial (for the ceremony) and disposal (for the body). Forgive me, that sounds a bit brutal.

I suppose, in the end, we must all "do right" by our dead. How we define "right" is formed by convention, belief and legal requirements, but is, ultimately a personal decision. It feels an honour to be involved in it.

Are we missing something?

2009-12-03T04:25:00.000-08:00

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.

The down side of being a control freak.

2009-11-14T04:35:00.001-08:00

Many funeral celebrants have a touch of the control freak about them. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as it's why we panic about the details, and worry about getting everything right.

Having said that - bad moment this week, when I had a call from an FD. A family had been very happy with my ceremony (phew) but in the copy of the words that I'd given them, I'd spelt the deceased's middle name wrong. Of course, I corrected the words, re-printed them (two copies, as I understood that they wanted an additional copy for a close relative) and dropped them through the family's door within 24 hours.

Cue 48 hours of self-flagellation (and not in a good way) for having made such a basic mistake. This has always been a fear of mine. Back when I used to have a proper job, I was going for a promotion, and had to take some of those daft tests (psychometric?) where you have to answer 400 questions in half an hour, so that the people who have worked with you for three years can find out what you're like.

"Your attention to detail could do with some work," was the main negative comment.
"Mmm" I replied. "Didn't the fact that I forgot to put my name on the top of the form rather give that away?"

Anyway - I have resolved the problem as best I can, enclosed a letter of apology with the replacement copies and tried to move on. Occasional beating myself up will naturally follow in the dark days, but generally, I'll try to prevent the situation recurring, and get on with the next one.

As a control freak, there are times when I feel out of control. This is usually when a family has very strong ideas of how they want the funeral to go. If I think that they could do things better (I'm thinking in terms of "flow" and "mood" which are hard to create, easy to lose, and make a lot of difference, even if they sound poncy) then I try to tactfully make suggestions. However, if the family has a fixed notion of how things should be and don't like my ideas, then I am there to provide the ceremony that they want, and I will do my best within their framework.

This can take many forms:
"Can you read this message from Aunt Gertie?"
"Of course" (Only if I translate it from Chav into English first)

"Can we have the crescendo of the music just at such and such a point"
"I'll do my best" - I have been known to have copies of sheet music in the script with me, to help with my timing- my Nimrod/curtains moment was a triumph, even if I say so myself.

"Uncle Arthur would like to speak for fifteen minutes, about Dad's fascinating collection of pencil sharpeners, with particular reference to blade types."
"Of course." Even if I know that most people there would rather hear about something else.

Despite any misgivings, I willingly rescind my control freakery, however hard it may be - it's their funeral - I am merely the MC.

And then sometimes it goes the other way.

I have the funeral coming up of a very small person; born before their due date, deceased within days; the poor little mite never really had a chance.

I've done a couple of small people funerals before, but in both cases, the baby had been poorly since birth, and had lived long enough to give people memories and photographs. On one occasion, we talked about what the child had done for her parents, in terms of life experiences and what they had learnt about the kindness of others.

This family is very young, the parents of the small person don't want anyone else at the ceremony (no lecturn for me, I shall sit or stand nearer to them, as we go through the service). The parents have never been to a funeral before, let alone a funeral for a baby and so they don't really know what to expect.

They have left the entire thing in my hands, and I'm finding it terrifying. I'm fairly happy that I'll find the right words, I have some beautiful poems, and ideas of my own that I think will work well. I'm even feeling okay about delivering the thing, although I will allow myself a few hours "recovery time" afterwards. But the responsibility is resting more heavily on my shoulders than usual.

I can normally say that "we give back to the family what they give to us" in terms of tribute, choices of readings or poems, anecdotes and contributions. In this case, they didn't have much to give. One of the parents openly said that they are trying not to think about it, as it's all too upsetting. It's an understandable position.

I met the family, stayed with them for 15 minutes (which is shameful, but they really didn't have much to say to me), found out all I could, and offered them to call me at any time with any thoughts. It felt unsatisfactory to me (but hopefully not to them - they seemed keen for me to go) and I hope to make up for it on the day.

So every time in the future that I feel that the control is taken away from me, I shall look back on this situation and remember that having full control isn't always fun, either.

Getting scared and getting it off my chest

2009-10-31T03:27:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I'm "stable" enough for this job.

Oddly, not for the actual work - there are times when I get very upset over the circumstances and the people that I'm dealing with, but I'm happy to sit at my keyboard and have a good cry that seems to get most of it out of my system.

No, my concern is the up and down nature of the workload. I get in a right old panic if I haven't got anything lined up, and am convinced that someone is out there doing all of the ceremonies that I could be doing.

The problem isthat I think I could be right.

There is a chap, very well known around town (used to be in the local media) who seems to be getting quite a few ceremonies. He seems particularly good at getting the high profile ones (young, tragic deaths, that type of thing).

The place where I live is very territorial and this chap is well known so it's not surprising that people will be comforted by having him looking after them. But this is all making me feel impotent. I'm trying to promote myself, to get myself known, but I don't want to start "stalking" the local FDs.

I feel back in the situation that I was in over a year ago - happy to stand and fall by my work, but feeling that I'm not getting the opportunity to prove myself.

This is what I mean about my instability. A phone call or two with a ceremony and I'll be back on form; the insecurity dragon will be sleeping again. And I am fairly confident that thanks to the work that I've done in the past, there are one or two FDs at least who have me at the top of their list, if someone wants a non-religious funeral.

These feelings always seems to rear their head on a Saturday morning, when I don't feel that I can do anything constructive to help my situation for at least 48 hours.

Oh well -there's always chocolate. That seems to slay the dragon for a while.

100 not out

2009-10-12T02:22:00.000-07:00

Much has happened since the saga of Margaret.

Well, another 30 ceremonies (including three weddings) so I’ve now done more than 100, and I’ve quit my day job. Does that count as “much”?

Yes, it’s scary-town in the world of X.Piry, as I decided to finally give up the meaningless world of finance. About a year ago, I made the decision, and have been planning it in that time. This basically meant not spending money on books and chocolate as I usually do, and saving my cash instead. Purchases have been restricted to the “sensible” category, such as a new suit, printer consumables and reams of paper.

And now the deed is done (although I may be called back to my old job on a “consultancy” basis. Terms are still to be decided, but it will be a better hourly rate than I’ve ever got from them before!). It’s exciting and scary. Mostly I’m excited and I immerse myself in work (ceremonies, or the other bits and pieces that I do that earn me threepence h’penny, but I enjoy). Occasionally, I think about it, and get scared. But fortune favours the brave and the decision has been made, so the only way now is forwards.

So what about the ceremonies? The three weddings were fun. They were all very different as one would expect from humanist ceremonies. One couple wanted traditional vows, another read poems to each other, the third had a hand-fasting ceremony. Luckily a friend of theirs wound the ribbons while I read the words, so I wasn’t trying to wrestle script and ribbons at the same time. All three went well, and I met some lovely people in the process.

As for the funerals, they have also been varied and interesting.

There was the day when I had two family meetings dealing with young deaths, one through illness and the other through accident. That was a tough day. I’ve realised the importance of building in a little “recovery time” after the particularly tragic cases. Also true after another baby ceremony.

There have been the families who seem so grateful that I’m embarrassed, and the ones that make me feel that it doesn’t matter what I do for them, it will never be good enough. There have been the families who, desperate for some control over the unfamiliar situation in which they find themselves, have grilled me to establish my credentials, my level of experience and my ability to do the job.

There was the one I tried to do partly in Welsh (there’s lovely) and the ones where it felt like I cared more than any of the mourners.

And there was the worst one of all (thus far).

The job satisfaction in this, for me, comes from the fact that I feel I’ve helped people in some way, that I’ve taken just a little bit of the worry away from their horrible time. (Yes, this is about my ego, but we all have to do what we do to get by and to feel okay).

When the circumstances of a death are particularly awful, things can be so much harder. At funerals for suicides, naturally emotions run exceptionally high. The family meeting had gone well; there had been tears, of course, but also some laughter. On the day itself there was a huge amount of tension, but we manage to release a little of it with funny anecdotes and happy memories.

And then we had the committal words, the final farewell, but without the curtains closing. After the words had been said, one of the mourners, very closed to the deceased, screamed out, and the sound echoed around the whole chapel (including from my ears to my boots and back again). Family members grabbed the person, otherwise they would have been at the coffin (which wasn’t going anywhere, but still...).

We calmed down, I asked everyone to sit. But then when I looked back at my script, I thought “if I try to read a word of this, I’m going to break down.” I took a slow breath, and managed to get started again, but felt completely bloody useless.

Afterwards, when everyone had gone to the flower area, this mourner also went back towards the chapel, but thankfully by then the wonderful backroom boys had prepared it for the next service, and it was just sitting in empty quiet repose.

This experience stayed with me for days. If I tried to talk to anyone about it for weeks, I couldn’t do so with dry eyes. Every now and again we need ceremonies like that to remind us of the enormity of what we do, but they are very hard to get through.

On the plus side, I did get a thank you letter from this person after a short while. I was delighted; not only because they are lovely to get, but also because I was relieved that the person felt able to put pen to paper. When I had last seen them they looked as though they barely knew their own name. So it looks as though I had helped, after all, in however small a way.

Onwards......................................

Update, and one of the reasons why I never go to the wake.

2009-08-01T12:07:00.001-07:00

Well, I’m sorry if anyone’s breath was bated, but I’ve not updated on the saga of Margaret!

It got far worse before it got better.

As always, when there are problems between people, it’s usually due to poor communication and that’s exactly what happened. I thought that Jemima had agreed some stuff with the rev, so I was talking to him about them and he started getting a bit upset, as though I was hi-jacking his funeral.

In the end I did my usual (apologised until I was prostrate, although that doesn’t work so well over the phone) and bowed down to his every request – it is his gig. I was getting very upset about it all, as I wanted to try and ease some of the agro for Jemima, but in the end I was just piggy in the middle and it got to the point where if I was relaying a message from the rev to Jemima and she was upset about it, I ended up having to say “then I’m really sorry, but I think that’s something you’ll have to discuss with him directly”. I felt dreadful.

My main learn from this (and I hope not to be in this situation again) is that I shouldn’t go and see the family until after they’ve seen the minister. He can then lay out the ground rules and I can work within them. The problem was we were saying a lot of “if he’s okay about it, we’ll do this” which only led to disappointment when he wasn’t okay about it.

However, once we actually got to the day, we were all fine. I hadn’t slept all week and was as nervous as I have ever been about speaking in public, but the church was packed (a good 200 – 250 people there, I reckon). I got up to deliver the eulogy and started crying with my first words, but once I’d said the first paragraph, my voice came back and I was able to get them all laughing and crying, just as we’d planned.

I am a very insecure person (many people with blogs are – unless we have something useful to impart to the world, we’re just spouting on screen to justify our existence) but I made the mistake of going to the wake afterwards. Now, even if I hadn’t been speaking at the funeral I would have gone to it, and gone to the “after”, but this reminded me why I never usually do.

Margaret had lived with a chap for over 10 years, but things had ended acrimoniously. When I saw her children, I asked if they wanted him mentioned. “No” was the definite answer from them both. So I didn’t.

Now, lots of people (I lost count, but easily 50 and probably nearer 100) came up to me at the wake and told me that I’d done a great job, that they had liked what I’d said, that they thought I’d captured Margaret well. However, the chap approached me, said “over 10 years I lived with her” and walked off. I was beside myself. I was crying, I put down my food (those who know me realise just how much a sign of upset that is!), I was ready to walk out there and then. Thankfully friends and folks I knew managed to rally me, but I was devastated for days afterwards.

It possibly didn’t help that I was drinking alcohol. I’m not a drinker as a rule, and haven’t touched the stuff for months. When you’re like that, it’s really not a good idea to down a vodka at 1pm, and then move onto cider. I stayed at the wake for another half an hour or so, but I really just wanted to be elsewhere, so I walked along the road, ringing my beloved to come and pick me up, while snivelling.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No.”
“What’s up?” (He’d already spoken to me since the funeral, due to a confusing arrangement with cars and lifts, so he knew that the eulogy had gone all right)
“I’m very tired and emotional”.

I could just imagine the look of joy on his face as he contemplated coming to get me. Upset and drunk – what a delight!

So this is one of the reasons why I never go to the wake. I hope not to make a mistake, but if I do, apart from being more attentive to detail next time, what is to be gained? Although the more I thought about it, the less upset and more cross I got. After all, I had done what Margaret’s daughters had asked, and they were happy with what I’d said. Also, this guy had been involved in a legal wrangle over insurance money from the disease that eventually killed Margaret. I’ve got to live with the fact that I’ve upset him. He’s got to live with a bit more.

On the subject of mistakes,

I did the ceremony of a person who, in the words of their daughter had been a “fantastic, brilliant person....and a dreadful parent”. With that in mind, I arranged to send the eulogy part of the ceremony to said daughter, so that she could check factual details (I always like to check, where I can), but also to make sure that she was happy with the tone of what I had written.

On the day of the funeral, after the ceremony, the daughter thanked me, but told me that I’d made a mistake, as I’d got the name of her sister’s husband wrong. I felt awful, apologised profusely, apologised to the sister (who seemed the most upset about it) and apologised to the husband (who claimed not to have noticed).

This was on my mind as I drove back home (the crematorium is over an hour away). About half an hour into my journey, a thought occurred to me - the daughter had sent the eulogy back to me and, apart from a couple of minor edits (extra punctuation for delivery, that sort of thing), I cut and paste it from her email into the words!

It was one of those silly moments, where I felt like ringing her up and saying “hang on a minute, love, do you realise.....”

Obviously, I didn’t, and I know that I still made the mistake in the first place, but at least I stopped beating myself up about it.

I’ll try not to leave it so long between posts next time. Goodness – what does it say that I’m beginning to feel guilty about not justifying my existence so often?
On second thoughts, that is a rhetorical question.

A strange situation for the godless among us.

2009-06-18T09:35:00.000-07:00

I used to work with a lady, whom we’ll call Margaret, who has recently died. Back when I started this game, she had already been unwell but, at that stage, was going through a good patch. She and I were discussing my change of path, and she said to me “well, the thing is, I believe in god”, which was fine with me.

A few months ago, she came along to the ceremony I conducted for another lady we used to work with (I think our office may have “sick building syndrome” – I’m certainly sick of going there), which Margaret thorough enjoyed, and apparently told everyone about.

Sadly, Margaret has now shuffled off this mortal coil, which is terribly sad; she’s only in her 50s. Her children (who we’ll call Jenny and Jemima) want me to do the service. So far so good, BUT, because of her religious faith, it’s happening in a local church.

That’s fine, I thought, I’ll just stand up in my usual “gob on a stick” fashion and delivery a eulogy. However, Jemima wants me to pretty much run the ceremony, with the vicar just adding a few prayers. I was okay with this, but didn't know if the vicar would be. Of course, he has concerns.

I have tried to reassure him that I’m not going to talk about anything but Margaret; that I’m not there to talk about humanism, or to be controversial, but he wants to make sure that any service in his church has the right tone, and delivers the Christian message. I completely understand his point of view, it’s the same reason that I don’t deliver prayers in my ceremonies.

That’s the latest so far – he’s yet to meet Jemima and Jenny, so I just gave them a quick call saying that I may not be able to run as much of it as they wanted. However, the things that they wanted to happen (songs to be played etc) can still be done with the Revd introducing them, rather than me. Jemima seemed a bit disappointed, but I’m hoping that once she and Jenny have spoken to the vicar, all will be well.

There was a slight comedy moment, which I rose above, while talking to the vicar. He was saying that he wanted to get across the Christian message “which is a powerful message, whatever your issues with it”. I didn’t bite. I don’t have issues with his faith; I simply don’t share it.

The Revd seems to be a perfectly nice and reasonable man, so I’m sure that it will all be sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction. On a purely personal level, I just hope I get through whatever I do without breaking down. It’s going to be a tough day.

Updates to follow when I have them.

On a completely separate note, I think I must have lived a very sheltered life.

I visited the family recently of a man who had died. I was talking to his wife about him and she said "He was a good husband - he never laid a finger on me." Is that really the only criterion?

Just chillin'

2009-06-12T16:56:00.001-07:00

It's one o'clock in the morning, I've done two family visits this evening and I've written up both tributes. I'm a bit too awake to go to bed, but getting weary now.

The two visits were quite a contrast and every now and again it does me good to remind me of the variety of the human condition. Neither deaths was expected, but the first gentleman was in his 80s and had been ill for some time. He was expected to die soon, but not then. The visit was calm, gentle and straightforward. I hope that we give him a calm and dignified goodbye.

The second man was more than 20 years younger than the first and, to everyone's understanding, as fit as a robber's dog. But he collapsed and was dead before he hit the ground. I don't know the cause of death, and yes, I could have asked, but it would make no difference to the celebration of his life and I see no value in upsetting the family even more for the sake of my curiousity. That's a question I leave for the undertaker.

It wasn't until I started doing this job that I realised just how tangible emotions can be. I realise it sounds as though I'm talking nonsense, but I could feel the rawness of everyone's grief at the second meeting. We had very few tears, but I think that's as much to do with shock as anything else. I try to remain business-like, calm and professional (as well as gentle, kind and sympathetic) but I find myself unwilling to ask too many questions for fear of further adding to their anxiety.

There were quite a few family members in the room, which helped, as the "do you remember when..." stories bounced off each other well.

It was a relatively short meeting; I'd got enough information to put together what, I hope, is the best tribute to the deceased, and I didn't want to intrude on their grief any further.

Goodnight, sleep tight........

Maintaining radio silence - anniversary marked.

2009-05-26T07:05:00.001-07:00

Oh dear - it's just occurred to me that after my terribly "down on my bad self" entry last time, I've kept silent since. Apologies - I haven't slipped into an abyss - I've just been a busy girl.

Not busy with funerals, alas. To quote an undertaker who was speaking to a colleague of mine; "It's dead out there". I'm covering a few holidays at the moment, so that's all okay, but frankly, if I wasn't, I wouldn't have worked for a month (or, at least, not at this job).

I know that there's a new independent in my local area, and that one of the local FDs is using him, but basically I just have to keep smiling, go and visit my directors when I can, be available when they call, and do a good job when I get a ceremony.

This week was the anniversary of my first ceremony. I was told to expect to do between 1 and 2 per month in my first year. I've done an average of 6 per month - great, but I'd like to do more. I'm looking for other ways of earning money apart from my detested day job, so I'm cracking on with other projects (a bit of training here and there, a few odd bits of writing).

It's not all gloom, however, I had a lovely ceremony last week. The son of the deceased is a professional musician and he not only spoke during the funeral, he also played one of his own compositions. It was a thing of beauty and wonder - it felt a privilege to be there.

A diary note from a dark day

2009-04-18T04:09:00.000-07:00

I've just been going through an old notebook, and found this entry from a couple of months ago.

This is it, this is the moment that I was simultaneously dreading and expecting.

It had all been going too well - I was beginning to think that I was the dog's swingers at this funeral lark, but now I'm having my usual feelings of "I'm crap, I'm causing problems for everyone else, I'll never be employed again and its no more than I deserve".

The problem is a ceremony later this week. It could be huge, so we have concerns about timing. The arranger didn't book a double slot and we could have problems moving people in and out.

This is not my fault and, as many people want to speak, I shall say almost nothing, but the problem is that the situation has created a load of problems for the FD and I feel like I'm adding to them. Eg - the music. I thought 48 hours notice was enough for Wesley, but now it turns out that it might not be, due to the relative obscurity of the tracks.

Basically, my inexperience is coming through and I'm feeling out of control; both of which are making me feel low.

It's mad, it's not the end of the world, but I feel somehow diminised in the FDs eyes. This is an unpleasant feeling, mostly because I like and respect her very much, but also because I don't want this situation to jeopardise our working relationship and future work.

At the end of the day, I can only do my best (which thus far has been okay) and hope to redeem myself.

That was two months ago, and I have only just been asked by the same FD to do another ceremony. The arranger says that they haven't had any humanist ones for a while, which may well be the case.

The ceremony did over-run, but actually went pretty well. I spent the whole day thinking that the FD thought I was a numpty (maybe she does?) but the family were pleased and I got a nice thank you note from them afterwards.

This was the bit of the learning curve I'd been expecting - the bit just after "I can do this", when something, however trivial, goes wrong, and you feel a complete muppet for not forseeing it. But it's healthy, it stops me getting complacent (I hope) and makes the next ceremonies I do better.

Life is all about learning.

Logistics, emotions, gifts and misunderstandings

2009-04-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

Logistics

It's been a heady few weeks.

I had the ceremony of a particularly tragic young man, who took his own life. For some reason, he decided to travel many miles from where he lived to near where I live and committed suicide here. There was nothing to suggest that he would do anything like this and so his family (which includes his very young children) are in complete shock.

Because of this, they didn't want me standing at the microphone spouting about this chap and so, instead, we were just having a couple of poems and a lot of music.

Due to geographical distance, the family sent a CD of the music to the local crematorium who duly checked that it played. So far, so average.

When I turned up with my cue sheet for the chapel attendants (at this particular crem, they play all of the music from a separate room), we realised that the family had put all of the tunes to be played as if they were one music track. To say that panic set in, was an understatement.

We were frantically fast forwarding through the CD, to be able to mark the times when each piece started and finished, so that the guys would know what to play when. Paul, our backstage man for that day was "man of the match", I can tell you. He played a blinder and the family need never know how much anxiety they caused us.

Emotions

Then we had another tragic case - it was my first funeral for a baby. The poor little boy had been unwell since birth, and there are all sorts of investigations going on about the causes of his birth defects, but on the day of the ceremony, none of this mattered - it was all about his parents, his family and terrible sadness.

Again, the chapel attendant (different crematorium) played a blinder, matching music to curtains and the like. The whole thing actually went rather well. On a purely selfish and personal note, I was pleased and relieved that I didn't cry, although I came close a few times. I was a bit of a space cadet afterwards, but I think that it's allowed. The family seemed happy with what I'd done (lots of hugs on their way out), so that's all I can ask for.

Gifts

It's been a week for people to show their appreciation. To be honest, I don't expect anything more than a handshake when we say goodbye after the ceremony - people are upset and I am just one of the people who helps them along the way. Twice this week, however, I've had families give me gifts in appreciation of my services (yes, Mr Taxman, I am aware of my obligations). I find it flattering, reassuring (not so bad at my job after all, then) and a little embarrassing - after all, they're already paying my fee. However, if they want to do it, I shall be gracious and say thank you very much. It would feel churlish not to.

Misunderstandings.

I've had three ceremonies put into the diary in the last few weeks, only to be scrubbed out again. In all three cases, it's because the conversation has been drawing to a close, when I've been asked "so you'll just do a couple of prayers, then?".

I know that this is a contentious issue and I try to be as flexible as possible but no, I don't say prayers in my ceremonies. They are non-religious ceremonies.

When we are going into a period of music or silence for reflection, I always flag this as a time for those with a faith to say their private prayers. If the prayer is important to the family, I offer that if someone else wants to lead prayers, I will happily stand to one side. I know that I include hymns in my ceremonies, but I believe that music is a different language and that the words aren't always the key part (if I sing "we're all living in a yellow submarine, it doesn't mean that I believe that we are under the surface of the waves in a primary coloured transportation vessel").

However, I do feel that, if nothing else in all this, I must be true to myself and I don't feel comfortable saying prayers, partly because of my own non-belief (I wish we had a positive word for it) and partly because I don't want others to think that this is what a humanist or a non-religious funeral is.

I'm not saying "never", because a circumstance may arise which makes me feel differently, but right now, I feel that it would be a compromise too far.

I may lose business out of it, but I have to stick to my principles, even if they're unpopular. As long as I don't sour my relationships with the funeral directors, then I hope we'll be okay.

Does life have to be so complicated?

Tales of the unexpected

2009-03-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

I have a good sense of humour. Not always appropriate in the funeral trade I grant you, but it's a good mechanism for surviving the bad stuff.

So imagine my wry chuckles when I arrived at a crematorium last week. I got there at 2 for a 2:30 service, as I always do (better an hour early than a minute late). I went into the back office, to check with the chapel attendant that all was okay with the music etc. (I love Wesley Music).

One of the bearers was already there. We said hello, I shook his hand and he said "your bugler will be here at 2:15".

I'm sorry - my what?

Yes, we were having The Last Post. Nobody had felt the need to tell me.

In a way, it wasn't a surprise - the man had a military past (his life, like so many others, had been changed by his National Service experience), but nobody had said a word.

I'd had two or three conversations with the funeral arranger. I'd spent the best part of two hours with the chief mourner, drinking tea and finding out about the dear departed, but still no mention of the blinkin' bugler!

Now, I appear to be making a mountain out of a molehill and I genuinely did find it all amusing, but it could have been a problem. This particular crematorium works on a 30-minute cycle, which means you have 20 minutes for your ceremony. And they are strict on this. I've heard it said that if you take more than 22 minutes, they kidnap your children and sell them to the slave trade. I don't have kids, but I'm worried for the cat.

For this particular ceremony, however, a double time slot had been booked, and so we had a bit of leeway, but it could have been so very different.

Another one to chalk up to experience.

I love this job. It makes me laugh.

A brief post and a comedy moment.

2009-03-02T09:49:00.000-08:00

Well, after my last rant about needing more work, I've had it coming out of my ears!

I've now done a total of 55 funerals, with two booked for this week.

I still can't get used to the unpredictable nature of this work (I've always had "steady", boring jobs), but that's the nature of the beast.

This will be a short post, as I haven't much to say just now, but I did have a lovely comedy moment.

We had the ceremony of a much loved and elderly gentleman. He was a solid sort of chap who, in his peak had looked after three allotments at once and fed the family all summer. His daughter chose Kipling's "The Glory of the Garden" (I have a slightly adapted version, taking the god out of it) to be read. The deceased's grandson read the poem very clearly and it was well received.

Afterwards, standing at the flower terrace (I always hang around afterwards, having been disgusted at a family funeral once by the vicar being in his car and half way down the drive before we'd even read the card on the floral tribute), I congratulated the grandson on his delivery of the poem.

A lady came up to him and started to speak, so I stepped slightly to one side. She then came up to me and asked "And who are you?"

"I conducted the ceremony."

"Oh yes, of course you did".

Being a giggler, I was actually proud that I didn't burst out laughing. In fairness, this lady's vision is not strong, but once she heard my voice, she recognised me.

To be honest, I found it funny, as I had been standing there for the best part of half an hour, rattling on about life, the universe, everything and, of course, the dear departed.

However, I was really pleased that she hadn't realised who I was. It doesn't matter who I am (unless someone wants a celebrant, then my name can be emblazoned in big letters). It matters who the deceased was, and it matters that we gave him a meaningful and appropriate send off.

I often think "it's not about you" when I meet family members, but I certainly think that about my own part in the proceedings.

A while ago I met someone, through some other work that I do and he was talking about his good friend who had died last year. I pieced bits of the conversation together and realised that this had been my fourth funeral. The chap I'd met hadn't recognised me at all, but he remembered what a good funeral it was.

Job done.

Busy and not just with funerals

2009-01-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

This is notoriously a busy time of year. All it takes is a nasty cold snap and the vulnerable become more at risk, the infirm less steady and the frail become weaker.

Added to this, my colleague and mentor (SWMBO) locally was also unwell. She is now making a full recovery, which I am delighted about, but I would be lying if I didn't confess that I do want some of her workload.

This isn't as mercenary as it sounds; she has been saying that she is very busy and has been finding it a little too much, so I will happily relieve her of some of the burden, but there's the rub. Imagine if you will the following telephone conversation:

Funeral Director: Hello SWMBO - are you free on the 15th?
Celebrant (thinking, "I'd really rather not"): No, I'm afraid I'm busy that day. However, may I suggest that you try my friend and colleague X. Piry? She's very good.
Funeral Director: Thank you, SWMBO, I'll take the number.

But do they then call? This is the question. To be honest, if I was the FD, I'm not sure I would. Do I chose someone on a recommendation, or do I go with (for example) the local registrar, who I've worked with once or twice before, and although it's not exactly what the family wanted, it's a non-religious ceremony and they'll do a reasonable job?

It takes a while to build up one's practice as a celebrant and a lot of that is leg work. So, knowing that my colleague was unwell, I took myself around to her local Funeral Directors and introduced myself. All I did was pop in, hand over a letter which my contact details, and say "I know that you usually use SWMBO, but if ever she's unavailable, I'd be very grateful if you would consider me in her place." I was going for non-aggressive - I hope it didn't come across as non-bothered.

I did pick up a bit of her work and I believe that with one FD at least I'm now their second choice for non-religious funerals. Another FD appeared to be very impressed with one of my ceremonies and said that he will definitely use me again. I do hope so.

Sorry, this post has very little to do with the care of the bereaved, writing a fitting tribute to the deceased and being compassionate to all concerned. But that's it - I can't do any of those things if I don't get the calls from the funeral directors!

However, I have also started doing weddings. A friend of mine wants me to do her wedding, so I've had the first meeting with her and her fiance. It went well (I took cake, that always helps) and they said that I was very reassuring. This is good, but of course in my, neurotic head, that simply means that they're being nice because we're friends and actually I was rubbish.

I've also visited another couple (but they seem to be seeing every celebrant in the region, so I don't know what will happen with them) and quoted for other weddings. This has been a learning curve. Lesson number one being that many people don't have the manners to reply.

It's been a mixed bag of funerals. My last one was very emotional, a young woman, a long illness, a lovely family, a packed crematorium. My next one, will be the opposite, an old lady, an unexpected death and a husband who couldn't even tell you anything about her life before she met him. The phrase "It's not about you, love" was in my head quite a lot, but I am a professional. To be fair, the man seemed genuinely upset, but on the way home, all I could think of was the John Donne poem:

I wonder by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we loved ? Were we not weaned till then ?

But sucked on country pleasures, childishly ?

This lady could have sucked on country pleasures, or anything else for that matter; her husband didn't seem interested enough to find out. It made me wonder - how did he know that he wanted to marry her, if he knew so little about her? The marriage was obviously a success, and long-lasting, but how did he know it was going to be?

People fascinate me.

Whose truth?

2009-01-01T09:47:00.000-08:00

I don't like to make it a (literal) body count, but I've now done funeral 38. It's been a roller coaster, I can tell you.

This time last year I was excited because I was just about to start training, and now I'm beginning to feel as though I know what I'm doing. Amazing.

I had an interesting one (and Charles of the Good Funeral Guide put me in mind of it.) The deceased was an elderly lady who lived in a nursing home. She had a goddaughter (who had sisters, one of whom I had spoken to) and a son.

The son and mother had been estranged for several years (it appears that this lady fell out with people quite often and, like Mr Darcy, her good opinion once lost, was lost forever). The son had tried to build a bridge and others had tried to encourage the lady to speak to her son, but she was having none of it.

I didn't get to meet anyone before the ceremony because of geographical distance, but I had several email and telephone conversations.

The goddaughter (and sisters) thought that the deceased was a wonderful woman, a role model, a fantastic and loyal friend.....basically, a paragon.

The son thought that the woman was a self-interested manipulative individual who cared for nothing but herself.

This was the hardest ceremony I've had to write.

I am, by nature, non-confrontational. I dislike conflict and do my best to avoid it. This means that one of my weaknesses is a tendency to say what I think people want to hear (yes, I know, it's a trait I hate in others, but we always hate our own faults the most, wherever we find them). So how could I please everyone in this situation?

Well, of course, the short answer is that I couldn't, and my fear was that in trying to please everyone, I would end up pleasing nobody (at best) or annoying them all (at worst).

In the end, I decided that honesty and openness were my best approach. I contacted both parties, and told them that the other person had very different memories, and that I would try to incorporate as much as I could into the ceremony, but I apologised in advance if there were bits in the tribute that didn't tally with their memory of the deceased.

Then I trod a middle path. This ceremony was not my usual "celebration of a life" but was, instead a "chance to look back" on a long life.

I didn't suggest that, during the reflective period, people remembered the deceased, but offered them the opportunity instead to remember the happy memories.

I used the word "complex" a couple of times to describe the deceased, and made a point of "determination can often be seen as stubborn", "strong opinions can sometimes lead to a lack of diplomacy" and the like.

I think that both parties felt that it was a fitting tribute (at least, that's what they told me, I didn't get any angry recriminations).

I did hear one member of the congregation afterwards say "that was quick", but someone answered with "what else was there to say", so I sent her a virtual, silent "thank you". It was never going to be a long service - all but the goddaughter just wanted to get out of there, I'm sure.

Thankfully, these conflicts are rare - usually if someone couldn't stand the deceased, then they just stay away, but at other times the relationships are more complicated.

The son was actually quite upset, and almost apologising for being so, but as we concluded, whatever this woman was like, she was his mum. He was allowed to grieve.

Happy New Year, all.

More tears, short notice and a trigger word

2008-11-11T09:03:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, I did the ceremony of a lady whose only child is abroad and unable to come home.

I got all choked up again. Tomorrow is the 2nd anniversary of my Mum's death and as I was standing there reading "and our thoughts go out to him..." I was thinking how sad it was not to be able to be at the funeral of his mum. There had been no estrangement, just physical distance and it caught the back of my throat as these things sometimes do.

Things will be calmer after tomorrow, I'm sure.

When I got back to the car, there were two messages on my mobile to call an FD who doesn't use me very often. I was keen to speak to him. I was less keen when he said "this is really short notice."
"Okay, when's the ceremony?"
"Tomorrow."
"Blimey."

But, I did it. I met the family yesterday evening (nice people, a few anecdotes to make it a bit special) and this morning we did the ceremony. I won't claim that it was the best funeral I've ever written, but it wasn't bad and, most importantly, the family were pleased.

However, I made an important discovery about myself, as again, I started to get choked. I put in an explanation about why we were having a non-religious ceremony (yes, I know, I've never heard a vicar explain why we're having a C of E one!) and I finished that off with "my name is X. Piry and I'm honoured to be conducting this ceremony today".

And that was it.

The word "honoured" I haven't always used it, and it hasn't always set me off, but the last few times I've said it, I've got choked up. So there's my answer. In the words of a character from a Guy Ritchie film, I've got to "leave it out" and I'll hopefully retain a little more composure.

Actually, not doing so well, then

2008-11-09T07:05:00.001-08:00

It had to be that after my positive last post, I was bound to crash.

It was because of the funeral of the lady that I knew.

Perhaps I should explain (or do I mean make pathetic excuses?)

Firstly, we're getting very close to the 2nd anniversary of my mum's death. This is making me a bit down and tearful. That's the trouble you see, when you don't believe that the dead "go to a better place" you just get pee'd off and upset that they're no longer in this one.

Secondly, I've had a bad week at my other job. This has also made me somewhat tearful.

Thirdly, as The Barenaked Ladies (Canadian band, for those who don't know) would sing - Who needs sleep? Well, I do, and it's not been forthcoming, making me a bit tired and emotional.

Are we getting a theme here?

So, I went along to the crematorium feeling more nervous than I've experienced since about my second or third ceremony. I was okay when everyone was coming in, but as soon as I started to speak, I started to cry.

I tried everything; pressing my fingernails into my palms, taking a breath, but in the end I just had to keep going.

I managed to pull it all back together (probably reading a little too quickly, but I do that anyway) until I got to a little tribute concerning working with the lady in question. Then the voice went again.

The weird thing was, by the time we got to the committal, I was actually okay, and could do the most poignant bit without too much trouble. Contrary, me?

Needless to say, I've been beating myself up since, despite the usual number of "that was a lovely service" comments, the family members all telling me that my upset added to the feeling of the funeral, and the lady's partner wanting to stick cash in my hand.

However, I am still cross with myself and having drama queen tendencies naturally believe that I was completely rubbish, have blotted my copy book and will never work again.

Thankfully, I have another ceremony tomorrow, so am hopeful that I will restore some of my own faith in my ability to do the job.

In my life I've trained hundreds of people and I've been waiting for the moment when I would go from "I think I can do this" to my first significant mistake and the subsequent feeling of "I'm crap, I should give up now". I knew that this moment was coming, but it's still horrible when it arrives.

Onwards and upwards.

Not doing so bad after all, then.

2008-11-03T21:53:00.000-08:00

There are times in my life when I realise how competitive I am and it's not a trait that I like to discover.

This weekend there was a gathering of the godless where I met up with fellow celebrants, including some from my training group.

This was great; with them (and others) we shared lots of ideas and came away feeling positive and enthused.

Before the gathering, I was convinced that one of the group was doing hundreds of ceremonies and that I was doing none by comparison. It turns out that she's doing roughly the same number and I was relieved. Yes, I know it's pathetic; we're not in a race or competition, but this is what I mean about the trait I don't like in myself.

Another colleague, who trained a couple of months after us, as got a slightly higher workload and I found myself feeling jealous and resentful. Yes, I know, I know. It is pathetic.

I've had a couple of ceremonies since my last post. We nearly had a comedy moment with the first one. As it was at the beginning, when everyone's feeling a bit anxious and I try to keep the dignity pretty high, this would have been awful, but thankfully it turned out okay.

The deceased had been a sailor and a floral tribute of a boat was on the coffin as he was carried in. The tribute was a flower-covered base (hull?) with a mast and sail. All was fine until they got near the catafalque. At this particular crematorium, there's a cross brace in the ceiling and so 100 of us watched with contorted faces as the top of the mast hit the cross-brace. Thankfully, there was a bit of flex and so it just bent and then went back upright, but that could have been funny/a nightmare depending on your point of view.

When I was talking with the family afterwards, they asked if I was going to write a book as the deceased had been quite a character and there had been some lovely anecdotes to share. I smiled and said I would keep them anonymous if I did. Didn't feel the need to mention this blog at the time.

And then yesterday was one of those ceremonies where lots of people like to speak, which is great. I was prepared (I had a long tribute and a short tribute written, and ended up using the short one). It was a bit weird at one point as one speaker started talking about seeing a dead relative (this wasn't a dream, apparently) and now being happy that the deceased would be meeting up with him .....

Confession time - I completely forgot to put in the one poem they had chosen. To be honest, with so many family members speaking, time was very short. I said afterwards that it was more important that everyone who knew the deceased spoke rather than reading a poem, which I do think to be true, but I should have put the poem in, even if it was only in the copy of the words that I give to the family afterwards.

However, they were pleased with the way things went and another funeral arranger/director (friend of the chief mourner) was there, so I'm now on another FD's "list".

It's terribly sordid and commercial sometimes, isn't it.

But, following the gathering of the godless, I'm fired up and raring to go.

I am also aware that I was among adults this weekend. I was in the ladies, which had about four cubicles. How do I know that I was with grownups? Someone farted and nobody laughed.

A few more ceremonies, and one coming up that I didn't want

2008-10-28T14:10:00.001-07:00

Well, it's been a while, but I have been kinda busy.

After my manic week, the next ceremony was ....odd.

It was a suicide, a social services job and all terribly tragic. Except about 20 people turned up, which is extremely unusual for a council ceremony.

I had a meeting and several phones calls with the chief mourner, who had a complicated relationship with the deceased.

To be honest, I'm not sure that a humanist ceremony was the right choice. He was a man always looking for something and although he wasn't "religious" as such, through conversations I've had afterwards, I wonder if a priest should have been called, rather than a fat bird with a nice line in poems.

That said, it all went well, but one of the speakers did get an "Amen" out of the congregation! She started off by giving thanks for the life of the deceased (alarm bells starting to tinkle lightly), and finished up with hoping that he'd found the peace "that passeth all understanding". (Sirens clattering through my brain). She said Amen and got a response, but to be honest, I didn't mind. by that point there was nothing I could do about it; I hadn't seen her text beforehand and most people seemed to respond favourably to the ceremony.

I was stalked a little bit by the chief mourner afterwards - she has a lot going on, and I think she needs to talk to someone about it. But I, with the best will in the world and all the compassion I can muster, am neither qualified or experienced as a grief counsellor. She mentioned that she is seeing a professional, so I didn't feel to guilty about gently cutting off the lines of communication.

Since then I've had a couple of very elderly "customers". One was a retired bachelor school teacher. I met his best friend who'd looked after his affairs in life. It was very much a case of old school, stiff upper lip, but I think that they were genuinely upset by the loss.

I did have an almost giggle moment, though. They didn't want music in the reflection, just silence. I said "we will now have a moment of silence for reflection" and their heads bowed. But I then kept talking "use this time to remember XX, those with a religious belief may like to use this time for prayer, etc....." and the heads bobbed up again.

Not to self "We will shortly have a moment of silence for reflection..."

The next elderly lady was one of a type. The sort of woman who wanted to save the world and was very involved in committees, politics and quangos, but had, over the course of many years, individually pissed off every single member of her own family.

I have a friend who believes in angels, and the spirit carrying on (I don't share her beliefs, but I'm always interested to hear them). My friend reckons that this lady's spirit would have been in the chapel and realised how empty it was. If she's right, it's very sad. But then again, it's not that much fun if she's wrong.

There are some more lined up over the next few weeks, including the ceremony that I didn't want.

It was bound to happen one day. I know the deceased. Not well, not a bosom buddy, but a former colleague. The sort of person that if I met her in the town, we'd stop, say hello, catch up on how the family are doing.

I knew that this lady was unwell, but hadn't realised just how poorly she was. It will be tough, partly because of the sadness I feel because I knew her, partly because of the tragedy I feel because she was only in her 50s. And partly, for very selfish reasons, because there will be people I know in the congregation, who will see me at work the next day and will be telling others how I did.

No pressure then!

What a week! Tragic cases and sod's law on timing.

2008-09-27T05:15:00.000-07:00

I'm still working part time in my previous occupation. My boss has been brilliant, and as long as I don't miss any deadlines (no pun intended), and keep a tab on my hours, I can work when I want.

This has made a huge difference - it's been what's enabled me to pursue my new career. When needed, therefore, I like to help out, and repay the flexibility that my boss has shown.

The company I work for has recently bought a competitor and so we need to start integrating computer systems etc. I am considered a bit of a "guru" on our system, so was the natural choice to go and train our new colleagues. We're in the same town, so no biggie on travelling. As, for the last few weeks there had been no work at all, I offered to go full time, as we were looking to integrate systems at the end of September (or Tuesday, as it's better known). I put three criteria on my offer to work:

I would like to take the hours in time, rather than money (this was popular with the boss, for obvious budgetary reasons).
I could keep my mobile on silent (in the vain hope that a desperate FD would call and offer me some work
I would undertake any ceremonies which came up.

I've had four gigs this week!

It's fair to say that I am absolutely knackered! Training is tiring for both the giver and receiver, so I was expecting to feel a bit sleepy by this weekend, but, man alive, talk about Sod's law on the timing!

The ceremonies were pretty varied too!

Last weekend:

I cried at a family visit - I apologised - it's unprofessional, but this was a particularly difficult ceremony. I was always dreading my first baby funeral. I never dreamt that my first ceremony for a stillborn would be a double ceremony - for both the baby and his Mum. It was just an absolute choker. Nice people - good people, the sort who care for others, and this happens to them. But they were lovely and gave me lots of great stories about the deceased.

I'd done another visit on Friday evening, so all weekend (apart from a couple of hours out) I was sitting here at the computer writing scripts and tributes.

Monday - training all day

Tuesday - in theory a day's holiday, but I went into the new company for an hour's training before heading off to my local crem for a ceremony at 11:45. This was ceremony for an elderly gentleman who'd had a good life and again, there were great stories to tell. It was well received and I've had a lovely thank you note since.

Then I had to leg it to the crem at a nearby town (about 15 miles away) for a 1:45 double slot for a 39 year old man. This was a big ceremony (not everybody could get into the chapel) and there had been lots of fingers in pies with regard to the tribute (which is why I only send the tribute out, not the whole ceremony, or I'd have to edit it five minutes before, when the family arrives, and deliver it from a laptop!). I'd had several conversations with the FD as the family kept changing their minds what they wanted to do (follow the coffin or be in first, etc) but it all went smoothly in the end. Again, folks have been kind enough to send thank you emails, which is very gratifying, as it helps to reassure me that I'm doing it right. After the ceremony I went to my usual office to pick up some prints etc, to take them back to new co the next day - some day's holiday.

Wednesday was the double ceremony - and a real test of character. My voice cracked a couple of times, but I managed not to break down (it was touch and go) and so the ceremony was delivered. I don't feel that it was my best performance (although not for the want of trying) but the family seemed pleased as did the Funeral Director. I realise I sound like a hard bitch on this one, but this was a funeral director I've been trying to get work with for a while, so I was glad of the opportunity, but not the situation. The FD was really kind and offered me the chance to say that I couldn't do this gig once I'd heard the circumstances, but I really felt that I couldn't reject them at this worst possible of times. If that sounds pompous or too full of myself, then I'm sorry, but I genuinely didn't want to turn these folks away.

And then in the afternoon, I had to go and train people! I was standing there saying "press this button" etc, thinking "but what does it matter? It's only a computer. It's only a finance company, it's not THAT important".

Thursday was my final ceremony for the week, and elderly gentleman who'd been poorly and had Alzheimer's. Still very sad for his family, of course, but less tragic, so a much calmer ceremony. Usually, if someone is reading, I offer to take over, or to read it for them if they feel that the emotion will render them incapable. I could only partially do that this time, as the man's grandson read a poem in French! I could probably have read it (I know what the words should sound like), but I would have got all of the inflections wrong, I'm sure. I had an English translation too, just in case.

Then it was back to work again for more training.

So that was all of my gigs for the week, and then I did a full day's work on Friday. Of course, when I've got home this week I've either been doing work for the ceremonies, or work for the training, so I've ended up sitting at the computer til nearly midnight, just trying to make sure that everything is covered!

It's now been decided that the transfer will happen at the end of October instead - panic over! Sod's law will say that I won't get any more ceremonies for three weeks!

It's proved to me a couple of things:

I should learn to say no- I can't be in two places at once.
I really love the funerals job, no matter how tragic the circumstances, (at the moment it's hard to think of something worse than Wednesday's ceremony, but I'm sure there will be). It's the most rewarding, satisfying thing that I've ever done. Even if people drive me mad (I now feel as though I'm on call, 24/7), it's still the best job that I could do. It would be great if I could give up the other nonsense!

Am I a bad person.....?

2008-09-17T14:25:00.002-07:00

I ask, because the family visit for my 16th ceremony was hysterical!

Okay, these weren't the most tragic of circumstances. The man wasn't that old, but old enough to have a great grandchild, so he'd had a fair crack at life. However, he was a character, and with his three kids (all grown, natch), we just had such a laugh! They were telling me all these tales about their Dad, who was a bit of a character, and it was a scream.

Obviously, come the day, things were more subdued, but we still managed to get a few laughs from them and, again, they all seemed happy with the ceremony. Nice people.

But then a tragic one followed.

You don't want to be doing a funeral on the 25th birthday of the deceased.

'Nuff said.

What I did over the summer....

2008-09-17T14:25:00.001-07:00

I realise that I haven't been keeping my readership (!) up to date.

Ceremony number 12. This is the one I was assessed for accreditation. It was fairly short notice, but a lovely lady, telling the life story of her aged and lovely Mum.

This would have been one that I'd have chosen for accreditation as, apart from a problem with flowers at the beginning, it all went smoothly.

Then came number 13. The hospice lady, whose illness progressed before I could get to meet her. This was tough.

Perhaps I should explain. My Mum died nearly two years ago. This lady had the same name, was roughly the same age and also died of cancer. She had three daughters (I'm one of three girls) and there was just something about this family that I really liked. Because I'd been involved before she died, I got a call very soon after her death and ended up meeting the family less than 48 hours after the poor lady had gone. It was all a bit raw.

The ceremony went really well, there were lovely tributes from family members and a work colleague. At one point, during the ceremony, I thought I was going to lose it, as I looked across the chapel and saw one of the grandchildren sobbing his heart out. But I held it together.

Afterwards, I was standing next to the funeral director who asked me if I was okay. I answered yes (what else does one answer?). The FD then said it looked as though I was a bit tired (Thanks!) and wondered if this was affecting me a bit more than usual. I swung around, so that nobody else could see the tears come to my eyes, as I explained about my Mum. I then spent the next five minutes apologising for being unprofessional etc. A tough one.

Number 14 was almost the opposite, another one of those where I felt that I cared more than the family. I hadn't been able to have a visit, just a few phone calls with family members who weren't particularly forthcoming. Considering that this lady was young enough to have both parents alive, it seemed particularly sad to me that so little effort was being made.

There were tears during the ceremony, but afterwards, the deceased's father just wanted to tell us about all of his war experiences, rather than his daughter. Maybe that was his way of dealing with grief. Maybe the deceased was a complete cow. Maybe it's best not to speculate.

Number 15 was another lady, but this time an elderly lady (she of the funny, see post below). We nearly hit a problem with this one. After all,these are non-religious funerals and the chief mourner wanted this poem all about heaven. I could understand the sentiment; wanting to give comfort to those left behind but I objected, publicly for the reason that it was all about heaven, and privately for the reason that it had a definite touch of the Rupert Bears about it. In the end, however, we compromised. I said that she could have it in the ceremony, but that I wouldn't say it. She had her sister-in-law read it instead and everyone seemed happy. Very happy, in fact. I got invited to a wedding on the back of it. I declined - they were lovely people but I don't know them, they don't know me and they certainly wouldn't want to see me drunk!

Official at last!

2008-09-17T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'm accredited!

Let joy be unconfined.

I have a certificate and everything!

A funny....... but still no accreditation

2008-08-16T03:09:00.000-07:00

Forgive me bloggers, for I have sinned - it's been over a month since my last confession.

Regular readers (I live in hope) will know that I was feeling very jaded after my last ceremony, and concerned about my first live one.

Unfortunately, my first live one became too ill to have a meaningful meeting, so I just did the usual family visit after she'd died. Less than 48 hours after she'd died.

But before I got to that I had ceremony no 10. Not my first suicide, but my youngest - a 29 year old man. In a way, I came riding in like the cavalry because a different funeral director had tried to force a vicar on them, who just didn't listen to "we don't want a religious funeral". It made me really angry on behalf of the funeral profession - these people have been through enough through the death of their son; the last thing they needed was further distress.

As expected, it was a full to bursting ceremony (which makes it all the more poignant, as the young man in question obviously didn't feel that he could reach out to any of them, despite their desire to help him) and very emotional.

My 11th ceremony was interesting from a "learning about myself" point of view. The deceased was a man who, according to his family, wanted as little fuss as possible. They were lovely people, but could go off at tangents, so the family visit went on for 2 1/2 hours. The ceremony was a "who would like to come up and speak" job (the celebrant's worst nightmare) and so it felt a bit chaotic, but for me, the hardest part was keeping my patience with the chief mourners. They turned the whole thing into a stage show and I found myself thinking "I could swing for you, lady". It was a test of my professionalism that I didn't just think "oh, sod it" and go through the motions to get to the end.

After much diary changes, I finally got assess for accreditation and was lucky, it was a ceremony that went well and didn't have too many complications. The daughter of the deceased was a really nice lady who told me lots of great stories about her Mum, so all I had to do was put them into the ceremony.

I'm still waiting for the accreditation (I believe that there are committees involved), and when that's happened I can get my official business cards and go around the funeral directors again.

Then we came to my live one - the one that affected me the most, as there were so many resonances with my Mum's death (same name, etc). After the ceremony, I actually had a tear, which is not something I'm proud of, but I held it together for the ceremony, which is all that matters.

So what's the funny? Well, I may have already warned you that I have a black sense of humour, but I wish to be rewarded for my restraint.

"After her stroke Mum lost her speech.

But she never complained....."

An odd day....

2008-07-09T09:25:00.001-07:00

.... and largely unsatisfactory, but then things change...

I did ceremony number 9 today, and for this one I hadn't been able to do a family visit, as the family are all over the country.

I got very little information about the deceased; I felt I hadn't got a handle on her at all, so this ceremony lasted about 15 minutes.

I know, I know, but honestly, I put in 2 poems (at least three verses each) and 4 readings, what else could I do that wasn't just padding?

So this felt very unsatisfactory.

Then I thought I'd go out selling myself again. I went to a small town nearby, but couldn't find the Funeral Directors. Never mind, I thought, I'll do that another time - there were a couple of village FDs I was looking for, so despite the fact that the weather was disgusting, I thought I'd keep on.

I couldn't find the second one, either. This village has only got one street, but I'll be buggered if I could find the place. That's the problem with house names instead of numbers, I guess.

When I got to the next village I wanted, I realised that I had my mobile and a list of phone numbers with me. I could have rung them!!!!!

Never mind, I found the third and left my leaflets with a very nice lady.

On my way back home (feeling mightily jaded by this time), it occurred to me that there's another small town about 6 miles from where I live that I hadn't been a-touting in, so I stopped off.

I had a long conversation with another very nice lady, who doesn't arrange funerals herself, but was interested in what I do, and agreed to hand out my leaflets if appropriate.

I then went to the other FD in the town, and realising that they were part of the co-op, I could reassure him that I had done work for one of the other local offices, so he seemed almost receptive.

Then when I got home, there was a message on the answerphone - I've got my first live one.

There is a lady at the local hospice who has been given a few weeks to live, and wants a humanist ceremony. I'm currently waiting for a call back from her husband, who wants reassuring that there will be no tree-hugging or talking to fairies, and I will go and meet the lady and her husband (probably at the hospice) to discuss their funeral.

It's my first "living funeral", and my biggest fear is that memories of my Mum will come crashing in, and I'll fall apart - I'm crying now as I write this.

But I've come to a conclusion - crying while typing is fine. As long as I don't dissolve either at the family visit or during the ceremony - that would be "a bad thing".

More details to follow, when there are some to tell.

Knackered, and thanks

2008-06-09T10:24:00.000-07:00

Well,

I've got through what felt like a mammouth week. I think they all went well - I've had a couple of emails of thanks, so looking good.

In conclusion.
Tuesday - much winking.
Wednesday - nearly converted a Jewish man to humanism. Seriously, it all went really well - for the first time I felt absolutely in control, and able to do the job.
Thursday - didn't sing the hymn, and not many people seemed to know where the burial ground was - but that was one of my emails of thanks, so it must have been okay.
Friday - simple, understated - I think it was a success.

Actually, Friday's had the best moment of the week. After the committal, I usually say a few words to remind people that they don't have to forget their loved one, and when I said "use the phrases that he would use", the two sons of the deceased caught each others' eye and started laughing. I would love to know what phrase was going through their minds, as one of their cousins started to smile as well. I will never know the answer, but it was a lovely moment, and one of those that makes it a bit special.

I've nothing booked now, and have had to turn a couple down, 'cos I'm off on my hols soon, but I hope to be up and running again next month.

A good one and winking.

2008-06-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

Today was a good ceremony.

How do you judge these things? By the comments you get afterwards? By the number of people who come to shake your hand? By your own gut feel? The comments from the funeral director? Whatever it was, today went well.

The main person I have to thank for that is the wife of the deceased. She had written a piece from her late husband's point of view, which, I'll be honest, I was worried about. Because I'd never met the man, I didn't know if I would give it the right voice, but, bless her, it worked. Folks were laughing through their tears, and it set the right tone for the whole ceremony.

On the way out, she thanked me, and praised the ceremony, as did the deceased's mother (he was a young man, sadly), and various assorted relatives. I got a kiss from the wife's Mum.

There was a man of the cloth in the crowd. That phased me a little to start with, but in the end I just had to do my best. I know that I tripped over a few words and said a poem wrong (didn't carry over a line properly), and I was conscious of his presence then, but the rest of the time, I just made sure I didn't cry, and tried to do a good job.

On the way out, he hesitated before coming to shake my hand. I hope I didn't smile too much at his reticence.

On a completely different tack, I've noticed that I do a lot of winking. I'm sure I winked about four times during today's ceremony, as I spoke to/about different members of the family. It's a bad habit, and I must break it.

Feeling good - and happy about tomorrow's ceremony too - nice people, I hope it will go well. Just got to get Thursday behind me, and deal with control freak woman on Friday (more to follow), and it will have been a successful week.

How Rude!

2008-06-01T06:17:00.000-07:00

I know that people are sad and at their most vulnerable, but I'll be honest, I'm getting mightily pee'd off with one of my deceased's family members.

I try to be flexible (I've allowed a hymn, for f's sake), but now I'm being told to re-order my service.

And I do mean told.

The email that came back was a definite "I want....." I was tempted to go back with a favourite phrase of my grandmother's - I want doesn't get - but felt that it may not be appropriate!

To be honest, the re-order isn't a problem, I just didn't like the attitude. Again, I repeat, I know that people are not themselves, which is why I don't react, but I am human too, and wouldn't mind just a bit more respect for the job I'm trying to do here.

Still, stop moaning, after the ceremony, I need never see that person again (I've a feeling that he wouldn't recommend me, as I don't think he likes my style).

Compromising myself

2008-05-29T14:23:00.000-07:00

Bollocks!

That was the main word going through my head as I drove back from a family visit earlier this week.

I have compromised myself, because I have allowed a hymn to be included in one of my ceremonies. Okay, so the world isn't going to end, but I didn't even put up a fight.

To be honest, I was in a state of shock when I agreed to it, as I'd just found out that the deceased, a little old lady, hadn't died of "old age" or "natural causes" but had decided to take her own life.

For a moment, everything seemed to unimportant, I think I would have agreed to a sermon by the Archbishop of Canterbury!

I'm glad that I hadn't known about the cause of death when I went to the visit, or I would have been a nervous wreck by the time I got there, but I did feel a bit pole-axed when the family told me.

The sad thing is, if it had been the funeral of a 17 year old lad, suicide would have been more tragic, but less surprising. What does that say about our society, I wonder?

However, I have made the decision (well, the mistake) and the hymn will be sung, so all I can do is distance myself from it, explain that it wouldn't normally be included in a humanist ceremony, let them sing to their heart's content and learn from the experience.

I know I shouldn't beat myself up, it was only my fourth family visit, for goodness' sake, but beating myself up is a speciality (and not in a good way....)

Speaking too quickly

2008-05-26T23:50:00.000-07:00

Well, my first two ceremonies are done.

I speaktooquickly.

I think that I was still clear, and that my diction was fine etc, but the first ceremony ended much sooner than I expected.

To be honest, it was a blur afterwards, I only know what I said because it was all written down.

The second one went better. Someone I know was the Funeral Director, and so on the way in he asked for everyone to stand (I forgot!)

X.Piry's top tip du jour:
When you're working at a crematorium for the first time, don't wait until half way through the ceremony before you think "where the **** is the button for the curtains?". This will cause you to run your hands around the lecturn while you're speaking, and generally look suspicious.

I managed to spot said button when I took a step back for the moment's silence.

That was a close one!

However, only my mate the funeral director seemed to have spotted it (I hope!) and the family were pleased with what I'd done, so job's a good 'un.

First family visits

2008-05-18T00:59:00.000-07:00

Well, it's 9 o'clock on a sunday morning, and I've been writing since 7:30, doing the two tributes from my family visits on Friday.

Yes, count 'em, two.

Interesting family dynamics, as I suspected, at the first one. I'd been told some of the negative stuff about the deceased during a phone call with her daughter. None of this came out at the meeting, so I was happy to ignore the bad stuff.

Then, yesterday morning (just as I was about to go out - note to self- use answerphone more) the same daughter rang to tell me tales of depression, marital conflict, family dysfunction and the like. Oh joy, so not only was I late meeting my friend, but I had to listen to someone complaining about her nearest and dearest! I've got family of my own if I want to hear whinging! I've also been left with the problem of what do I put in my script. The tribute should be accurate, but I don't think it hurts to have a few euphemisms. A carefully worded "they went through the ups and downs that all marriages experience" should hopefully be recognisable to all who knew her, without telling the world that they rowed a lot.

My second visit was to a lady who is one of life's philosophers. She's obviously well read and had very kindly written out a precis of her mother's life for me, so I had a lot of material to use for the tribute. I'm convinced that I once worked with the deceased, during a not particularly glittering point in my career (the non-glittering was entirely my own doing, nothing to do with the deceased or her colleagues). I feel happier about this tribute, but conscious that I've only met one of the descendants, and must be careful to include the other.

Between family visits, I popped in to visit the FD I'd previously met (nice lady), and another that I hadn't had dealings with. Timing was on my side, as the funeral arranger had just met a family who wanted a humanist officiant. What a result! So I've got another family visit Tuesday evening.

Bring them on.

I've got a gig!

2008-05-12T09:33:00.000-07:00

One of the FDs I met on Friday has got me a ceremony
I've spoken to the family and it looks like an interesting one (some "challenging" family dynamics, I think).

Rock n Roll!

The downs and ups...

2008-05-12T09:23:00.000-07:00

My visit with the funeral director went really well. I was perfectly honest about my lack of experience, but gave an example of my written work, and discussed the training, and we sat chatting for nearly two hours. She was a lovely lady, and I was really grateful for her time.

After that, we had a downward slide. I had a message from SWMBO, asking if I'd heard from a particular FD, as there was a ceremony in the offiing. I hadn't heard, and offered to call them, but SWMBO told me to leave it with her.

Unfortunately the family had decided to go with the local registrars (who are also doing non-religious ceremonies - curse them!), and I began to feel very down in the dumps. Something along the lines of (please imagine a whining voice)

"That's it - I'm never going to get any work. How am I supposed to gain any experience if nobody will give me a chance? I know that's not their problem, but what can I do? All I want is to get that first one under my belt..." This went on for some time.

Again, action is better than inaction, so despite it being a blisteringly hot day, I put on the black suit again, and went delivering leaflets.

First I met Tall Guy, a man I've known a little for many years. He was very receptive, but pointed out an obvious - many people, at the last minute, opt for a religious service, just in case they've been wrong all these years (I believe there's something called "Pascal's Wager" I need to look into).

Then I went to the one who had called my mentor the day before. I was conscious that I was being recommended to them, when they'd not even met me, so I went and pressed some flesh there.

Finally, I went to another that my mentor uses, and with whom I share a mutual friend. The arranger there was a nice guy, who said he'd put me forward for the next humanist ceremony - they don't like to rely too heavily on the same celebrants, so this will be my chance to go on their "rota".

I felt a lot better after those visits than I did before, I can tell ya!

Fear and Self-Loathing in Staples

2008-04-29T07:44:00.000-07:00

I'm really not comfortable selling myself.

I dread visiting Funeral Directors more than anything. I know, it's crazy, I should be more worried about meeting a family wracked with grief, but when I go to their home, I will have a specific purpose in meeting them, and will hopefully help them deal with their tragedy.

Meeting Funeral Directors to say "hello, I'm here, I'm trained and I'm lovely" causes me tears and heartache like none other. I have self-confidence "issues", and promoting myself is like torture to me.

However it has to be done, so, putting my big brave pants on (as well as my black suit, natch,) I went to visit a local Director after work today. I don't feel it went well. I was in there for about five minutes, and I didn't really sell my personality. I can be chatty (can chat for England, to tell the truth), I can be warm, and I have a sense of humour (so I'm told - mostly I just think I'm a lary tart who can't shut up, but that's the "issue" raising its head again). I was trying so hard to be sensible and mature, that I fear I came across as aloof and stand-offish.

My head was somewhat messed, and so I then drove home like a f-wit. (Apologies to the guy who was helping the lorry to turn, I was insolent, and there's really no need for that).

After my last funeral with SWMBO last week, I went into Staples, the stationery store, to get supplies (business cards, posh paper etc). I love Staples, it's my favourite shop (I have that female stationery-addiction thing) and so I now have a loyalty card for my favourite shop! This was very exciting, but I began to fear that all I was doing was wasting money if I was never to do a ceremony.

Once home today, I tried a ten-minute relaxation technique (which basically involves me sitting in the armchair breathing v e r y s l o w l y), but my head was still racing.

Again, action is better than inaction, so I made another call to another director. This one was enthusiastic! She has had trouble with her funeral celebrants! I'm going to see her on Thursday afternoon!

My faith in myself and my choice of profession has been restored.

I'm official

2008-04-21T10:32:00.000-07:00

I got my letter in the post this morning - I've been approved to conduct ceremonies on my own.

Yippee!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I just have to make nice with Funeral Directors.

Hummmmmm................

Ooooohhhhhh!!!!!

2008-04-20T03:00:00.000-07:00

There appear to be political machinations at work.

There's been a row, and someone high up locally has resigned his position. Unfortunately, this is all to do with comments on a forum that I can't yet use because I haven't yet reached that stage in my accreditation. My concern is that everything will have been removed by the time I get onto it, and I'll miss out - believe me, I'm not a woman that likes to miss out on anything!

I shall have to chat with SWMBO and try to get more info, but she's got loads of family stuff going on at the moment, so I'll be a bit sensitive to that.

I do occasionally have dark thoughts about all this. I love the work, and admire, in principle, the organisation, but as with all structures there are elements of shit at work.

The celebrant who did my grandfather's funeral in January is not, as I believed at the time, a fully accredited member of the Association, but an independent. Apparently, he'd had a falling out with the Association some time ago, and went out on his own since then. It's not a course of action I would follow willingly. I've always worked in business and so I take a certain amount of comfort in the structure of such institutions. Having been to the local crematorium on Friday, however, and looked at the business cards on the notice board, it would appear that my main competition (God Squad aside) is in the form of a couple of independents.

It is better to have the weight of an organisation behind me, I think - as long as that organisation is strong, and not imploding thanks to the people within it.

Interesting and scary times.

A flurry of activity - Day 2

2008-03-30T05:31:00.001-07:00

Day 2 in the residential course house.

X Piry is not feeling so good............

By the afternoon I was feeling a bit hyper, and found it difficult to concentrate.

To use a term common in theatrical parlance, but not necessarily appropriate in funerals; I corpsed.

Our ceremony was for a young woman with small children. One of my colleagues was role playing as a small child. Now, I genuinely believe that a small child saying "I want to go to the toilet" would not throw me. However, to have a mature and elegant woman say it was just too much, and I got the giggles.

However, this was only part one of my inadequacies.

I'd been in charge of the script that four of us were working on, and I'd put some of the pages into the folder in the wrong order. That was a classic schoolboy error, and I felt genuinely ashamed about it. My colleague coped with it brilliantly, and the congregation would never have known, but I still felt absolutely awful.

Add fatigue to this and I was a very grumpy bunny by the time I was coming home.

In conclusion, however, I shouldn't dwell on the negative; we got some very good feedback, and are all moving forward to the next stage. My overall feeling is that it went well, so that's what I should carry with me.

(Famous last words).

A flurry of activity - Day 1

2008-03-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

Day One in the Residential Training House................

X. Piry is in the diary room................

Day 1

I'm a bit knackered, and we've only done 6 hours training!

Started at noon, and it's gone pretty well. I haven't done much since the last session, especially in comparison with a number of my colleagues, who've been attending ceremonies left right and centre.

We covered a lot of practical stuff today; record-keeping, music selection, a walk through of the ceremony, that sort of stuff. I am much more at home with practical than theory, and as soon as they mentioned the magic word "spreadsheet" I knew I'd be okay.

Then we worked out who was doing what in the presentation tomorrow, and decided what to do with our script. I think it's one of those "oh, that'll do" things, when we worry more about delivery and volume (I know I speak too quickly, and must learn to slow it down). However, you can bet your life that tomorrow we'll get feedback and say "oh, we wish we'd spent more time on the script", but that's the way it goes.

Let's just hope for a dry half hour when we come to do our outdoor burial bit.

The hotel is quite nice, although the rooms are across the road from the main bit of the hotel, so we got a bit wet when we booked in earlier. So much for my lovely blow-dried bob this morning!

But enough of this nonsense. I need a shower and to iron my clothes for tomorrow.

Spots and philosophy

2008-03-08T03:57:00.000-08:00

I've never been a great one for skincare. Marian Keyes reckons that there are two types of women; those who love shoes, and those of love cosmetics. Well, sorry Marian, but I fall into a third category; those who don't give a monkeys.

Obviously, this means that I look absolutely gorgeous at all times.

However, I am going to have to start taking a bit more care of my appearance, and a huge spot on the corner of my mouth has brought this home to me.

For my own part, I still don't care much - spot, schmot say I. But, if I were standing up at the local crematorium today, looking like I've done ten rounds with Ricky Hatton, saying "we are now here to celebrate the life of....." would I be portraying quite the image that the family are looking for?

Superdrug, here I come.

When I had my feedback from the first training session, it was recommended that I read up a bit on the philosophical side of Humanism. Being a good girl, I got myself onto Amazon and ordered a load of books.

I am usually a happy reader. I normally try to read at least two books per month, alternating between fiction and non-fiction. Not this month! This is slow old stuff to read. I realise that philosophy is meant to be read slowly and digested, but bugger me, when you get to the bottom of the page, and realise that you need to start at the top again, because you drifted off into "what shall I cook for dinner tonight", then these books are not going to be finished quickly.

My original plan was to read through them all in one hit, but I think that when I've finished the current tome, I'm going to have to go for something with a pink cover, and a title like "love's a bastard, but not in the end" to clear the brain.

Critique and self-doubt.

2008-03-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

"All feedback gratefully received." That's what I always say. Of course, what I actually mean is "please love me, and don't criticise, or I'll cry".

I say all this because SWMBO gave me feedback on my second script. She gave me a lot of constructive advice on how to make it better, but I wanted it to be good enough already!

I know, unrealistic expectations of self have always been a problem; it is, after all, only my second script, and so I have things to learn. But it still hurt.

I hope that I was positive and polite when I spoke to her (even if she HATED my choice of poem for the committal), and I could see that all of her suggestions were right, but I felt a bit flat afterwards.

I've swapped scripts with other members of the group, or rather, I embraced the idea, sent my work out to 5 people, and only one has replied and I spent ages frightened to read her work, in case it was brilliant. It is very good, but not to the point where I'm intimidated.

In the final part of training, a group of us work together on a script, and I'm already convinced that none of my contributions will be used, as everyone else will be better than me.

But I have a lifelong habit of worrying about things that haven't happened yet, so perhaps I should just take a breath, calm down and do my homework!

A lousy correspondent

2008-02-24T05:53:00.000-08:00

Training last week, and I didn't even write about it (well, I was absolutely cream crackered).

The 2nd training was more relaxed (the guy I thought was a bit "self-rectal" the first time seemed a lot more human - I don't know if he'd mellowed or I had), but it did feel a bit chaotic. I know that seems like a contradiction , what I mean is that the students were more confident, but that the trainers were trying to cram so much in that we were fighting the clock the whole time.

There was only one part where I knew I'd done badly, and for two reasons.

We were role-playing a scenario, enacting a family visit with a woman whose son had killed himself, and our brief was to find out the cause of death.

Self criticism no 1 - I could hear myself asking closed rather than open questions - must get out of that habit RIGHT now!

Self criticism no 2 - The trainer playing the bereaved mother was in denial about the death (unsure if it was deliberate or not), and so we were getting inconclusive answers. I just turned to a fellow student and said "I've gone blank". Obviously, that is a Very Bad Thing, but I would like to think that in a real situation I would behave differently, for two reasons.

Firstly, if the mother didn't know or didn't want to share the cause of death, I would leave it out of the ceremony.

Secondly, if I was drawing a blank from the family, I would ask about something else entirely (what did the deceased do for a living, favourite music, anything) and move on, perhaps coming back to the cause of death later, once more trust had been established.

However, I've been invited back for part 3 of the training, and so it couldn't have counted against me too much.

I've not had any ceremonies for ages, so I've had to go to work (boo) and rack up spare hours for when they're needed. If I get too many, I might just take some time off anyway.

More feedback, and another funeral

2008-02-07T11:39:00.000-08:00

Another week, another cremation.

I got feedback from NG (my trainer) on my first script. He made several useful comments, and some that I found entertaining. This was because he had criticised one or two things which were straight lifts from my mentor's scripts.

NG is a bit of an evangelical humanist, whereas I think I'm more liberal, so there are bound to be differences, but he summed it up as "not a bad stab at it", which I took to be a complement.

There was also the problem of the family for this particular script. I'm surprised that they could even agree that the bloke had died, because they couldn't agree on anything else! Still, NG's not to know that, so he made comments about "should have got more here" (none of the music had been decided when I sent the script to him, but one piece was changed on the day of the ceremony). Therefore, he doesn't know if I didn't have everything because it wasn't given, or because I'm not good at listening, getting info etc.

Generally, the feedback was useful, however, and I don't want to seem as though I'm making excuses.

So then we came to the funeral yesterday of the elderly lady. The family are lovely, and when the deceased's daughter said hello to me when they arrived, I said what I always say: "All right?"

No, she probably wasn't, as she had just arrived for the funeral of her mother.

I must teach myself simply to say "hello". It's kinda established in the language, it really shouldn't be too much of a shock.

I met one of the funeral directors yesterday, and when he shook my hand he leaned forward and said, very quietly, "welcome to the show". To me that summed it up beautifully. A good funeral is dignified and respectful theatre.

Bring on the next performance.

Poetry and feedback.

2008-02-03T03:32:00.000-08:00

I feel that it's about time I got organised (famous last words), and so I've printed off all of the funeral poems I've collated so far, and put them into a folder, with an index of first lines.

I was quite impressed with what I'd collected but, major note to self - think before you print!

I thought 5 copies of each would be about right (to hand out as needed). That is fine, but when you've got nearly 50 of the buggers, and they are to go into plastic punched pockets (oh my, I do love my stationery!) they struggle to fit into the ring binder set aside for this purpose (a purple holographic one).

Plus, some of them are beautiful, but a bit on the religious side, so are inappropriate for a non-religious ceremony. Many are complete sentimental rubbish - but that doesn't mean that the good folks won't love 'em. I daresay I'll have to listen to a lot of Boyzone and Celine Dion as I make my way through this career too!

However, I can always do a bit of judicious filtering, and leave the god-squad ones in a less shiny binder at home.

On a more positive note, I got some very good feedback from SWMBO from my first script. She gave some very practical tips (number pages, put a deep margin at the bottom so that you don't end up talking to your feet -that kind of thing), as well as suggesting some changes, but her general comment was that although it could be improved, she didn't feel that a family would be unhappy with that ceremony, as written.

I'm a happy bunny!

Busy!

2008-01-26T09:43:00.000-08:00

So there I was, thinking that I was going to have to re-write my Grandfather's funeral script for my homework exercise, and it's all gone mad!

Thursday was my second gatecrash, and my first ever burial. It went really well, and lots of people complemented my mentor on the service.

Then on Friday (yesterday) I had my first family visit. I thought that SWMBO had already told them I was coming, but she'd not had the chance, so I did feel that I was "doorstepping" them a bit, but they were terribly nice about it, and made tea and everything.

At the moment the good folks are shocked, fairly angry, and still looking for some answers from the health care professionals, so it wasn't a particularly teary visit, which from a purely selfish point of view was probably a good thing for my first one.

I can understand the frustration of wanting to know answers, but one of the family members said "we just want to know that we did everything that we could." I nodded politely, but wondered about this. In the unlikely event that somebody told them that they could have done more, how will that leave them feeling? Death leaves unanswered questions, and I'm not going to pretend I'm all zen about it, and happy to accept, but the danger with asking questions is in finding the answers. Can you cope with them being what you don't want to hear? Sometimes ignorance is bliss after all.

But anyhoo, I wrote pages of notes, and have spent this afternoon typing my script. It's too long (by at least 500 words), but I'm going to leave it overnight and then edit it down tomorrow, as well as read it aloud to myself (I've already warned DH that this could happen, so that he doesn't think I've gone completely mad) to check the timing.

While I was putting this together this avo, SWMBO rang to say that there was another family meeting on Monday, about 20 miles away from where I live, so for the third day running I'm going to have to leave work early. I'll explain it all to my boss on Monday morning, and I'm sure she'll be okay with it, but my absences are becoming a bit obvious.

Actually, Monday might become interesting for another reason. Friday's are mufti days at our office, and so I wore my jeans to work, but then nipped into the ladies as I left, and changed into a skirt etc. On my way out, one of my colleagues was coming back from lunch. I saw her look my up and down, and I feel that she's a person who likes to know what's going on, and is not averse to being indiscreet in her curiosity. I wonder how many people will think I was going for an interview!

This is the problem with having to keep my flexible hours a bit discreet, otherwise I'd just tell everybody, and that would be it. Still, we'll see what the next few weeks brings!

My first gatecrash

2008-01-19T06:30:00.001-08:00

I went to the first funeral with my mentor yesterday.

It was a good service - I was very impressed with my mentor's range of quotes and sayings. She's posh anyway, but has clearly benefited from a classical education.

The service went well, I had one moment when I thought I might get a bit choked up (my biggest fear with all of this), but that was watching a brief exchange between a man who'd just delivered a eulogy, and his wife - as an officiant, I would be preparing for the next part, and not notice this.

On a personal level, I felt incredibly self-conscious. As I was all in black, I hoped that I would be mistaken for an employee of the Funeral Director, but it was uncomfortable, feeling that I had no right to be there.

It was a civilised service - there was some weeping, but everyone there seemed to be respecting the dignity of the service.

As for me? I've got a lot of research to do. Google, here I come.

Swearing - contains strong language

2008-01-18T04:46:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about swearing, which I do far too often (I know, it's not big or clever, but we all need a vent).

Most of my exclamations seem to be of the "for christ's sake!" variety, but I feel that I need to get out of this habit, in my role as a humanist.

However, if I get away from religious swearing, that only leaves sexual references ("oh fuck!", or the C-word that even I baulk at), or bodily functions or parts (shit, arsehole, or my particular favourite - bollocks). These seem somehow stronger (perhaps a sign of how society is moving away from religion, and is therefore less likely to be offended by religious references), and more distasteful.

I know, I know, I should be more socially acceptable (ie, it's not "complete bollocks", it's "utter rubbish", or "oh no" instead of "shit!", but it makes an interesting topic, don't you think?

If the celebrant thing doesn't work out, I think I might see if there's a university somewhere that needs research done on swearing in the English language.

I love my boss

2008-01-17T08:51:00.000-08:00

Now how often do you hear that?

The reason why I love my boss is that she's being very accommodating, and allowing a reduction in my hours.

This means I can keep a regular income, and still burn people.

Fab!

First Session - Knackered

2008-01-13T03:36:00.001-08:00

Well,

My induction/assessment day was yesterday, and it was great.

I came away feeling really motivated and inspired. It was a generally lovely group of people - we had a VERY high proportion of lapsed catholics, and one chap who I thought was likely to get on my nerves (a bit too far up his own behind, if you ask me), but mostly pleasant, intelligent articulate people.

It was interesting that we all had something in common (our humanist belief) while still being very different. This came to light when we discussed "what would happen if you were putting together a ceremony, and someone was adamant that they wanted the lord's prayer?" We had a range of answers, from "okay, but someone else will have to lead that bit" to "no, this is a non-religious ceremony" (the latter having a very strong hint of "sod off" about it).

We've got homework to do. I've never been big on poetry (more of a chick lit girl myself), but I must study, investigate, and progress, as well as get back in touch with my mentor to attend some services and family visits.

Right now, though, I want to sleep!

Intro

2008-01-05T07:14:00.000-08:00

Hi,

I'm X.Piry - a trainee funeral officiant.

After a brief mid-life crisis (my mother died, then I hit 40, then a good friend's husband died) during which I pondered the futility of the heady world of business finance (my occupation of choice for the last 15 years) I woke up with the feeling that I would like to become a funeral officiant, conducting non-religious ceremonies.

I've never believed in God, but I do try to believe in people.

So, here we are - I attend my first course next Saturday. I have a mentor, who is lovely, but possibly the poshest lady in the world, and I'm trying to work out when I tell my boss that I'm giving up the dynamic world of finance, for the world of the dead. After I get my bonus for 2007 is the most obvious answer, but once that's sorted, there's some negotiating to be doing!

Wish me luck - it's all a bit scary.