During my training as funeral celebrant, we were advised not to lead the funeral of family or close friends. This warning rang round my head a little, as I prepared for the funeral of a close relative last week. He had asked me, during his long final illness, to take his funeral for him, so I did. One or two friends commented that it was a big ask - so it was, and I'm very pleased he asked it.
(that's not me above, of course...)
These things helped:
1. There was a slightly longer interval than usual between his death and the funeral; I was pleased to have done a fair amount of thinking and grieving before the event. For example, his son emailed me his fairly brief eulogy in advance; I read it and started crying. Better at my desk than at the lectern. It was beautifully written and beautifully delivered on the day.
2. My relative had put up a tremendous fight during five years of illness, and his death was expected often during those five years. "You're a tough little bugger," one surgeon said to him. So he was - and a courageous one too. He was facing death calmly the night he died in his sleep, having told us a few days earlier that there was no point in being sad, he'd had a great life. (Which helped with the nature of our sadness - it wasn't a shock.) Impossible that he isn't still here of course, but not a temporarily disabling shock. That would, I guess, have been a lot harder for me as celebrant. So if you're asked to lead a relative's funeral, just check out how the death happened, what you feel about that, how long you've had to adjust. If this doesn't sound too cold: it's a professional judgement you have to make.
3. I've taken over 360 funerals; I couldn't have done it, I think - or if I had, it would have been a horrible experience for me - if his was my third funeral. I was able to put on my professional shoes, as it were, and concentrate on the job (well, part of me, at least, could do so.) I didn't have to worry about procedural things; I knew what to do if one of the other speakers over-ran; the music was taken care of, and I remembered not to look too hard or long at the front row - grief is very catching! Let me be clear: it's not that I was worried about showing emotion, only about being able to speak clearly. We all have our feelings, but as a celebrant I know said, "you know you've got the balance wrong when the family start to comfort you rather than vice versa..."
3. The crem isn't one of those gruesome cramped pseudo-Gothic dumps that we have to put up with all too often:
A matter of taste, perhaps, whether you like Victorian Gothic or something emptier and determinedly modern - but I think it had a big effect on the congregation, and it certainly did on the celebrant! Calming, spacious, light, etc etc. So that helped. Excellent technology, too (webcasts, recordings, slide shows all available.)
4. My family and friends were all very supportive, and that is an invaluable reassurance and comfort.
When the curtain came across, we had one of these:
My relative had seen active service with the Royal Marines, and so they sent along a bugler in full formal dress. Whatever you may feel about the military, ranging from pacifist abhorrence to gung-ho militarism, I defy you not to find the Last Post a deeply moving sound. It was beautifully played (it isn't always, believe me..) and I had to stare very hard at the carpet when that sound rang out and the curtain came across.
It sure was tough, but it went well, and I felt privileged to have been able to do it for him. So following on from this experience, my entirely unasked-for advice would be: don't say no as a matter of policy, but do take time to think through whether or not you can do it well for someone so close, and do look after yourself. You have your own feelings, and yet you do have to be of use.
No comments:
Post a Comment