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.
Saturday, 21 March 2009
Monday, 2 March 2009
A brief post and a comedy moment.
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.
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.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Busy and not just with funerals
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:
People fascinate me.
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.
Thursday, 1 January 2009
Whose truth?
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.
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.
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
More tears, short notice and a trigger word
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.
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.
Sunday, 9 November 2008
Actually, not doing so well, then
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.
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.
Monday, 3 November 2008
Not doing so bad after all, then.
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.
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.
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