The real test

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.