Is it common to talk about money?

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

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

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

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

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?

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.

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.