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.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Friday, 9 July 2010
Get off my land!
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?
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?
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.
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.
Monday, 28 June 2010
Training with the shoe on the other foot
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.
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.
Monday, 14 June 2010
Standing on the shoulders of giants
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
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
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.
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.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Apologies for lack of posting
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
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
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