Logistics, emotions, gifts and misunderstandings

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?

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

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....."

Compromising myself

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....)