For anyone speaking at a funeral: doing grief, doing ceremonies part 3: conclusion

The previous post, about working as a celebrant for a family member who's died, is really a specialised subset of a much more frequent situation: being asked, or wanting to speak at a funeral, as a family member or friend. So rather than bang on about my recent experience, it might be more use and less solipsistic to make a couple of suggestions for any "civilian" thinking about talking at a funeral.

1. I'm a bit down on "ought," "should." Do you want to, that is the question - even if you're a bit nervous about it? S/he may have said s/he'd like you to speak, or the widow/er might ask you. But if it's going to work for the gathering, it needs to be what you want to do (with appropriate guidance, of course.) If you really don't think you can, or really don't want to - then best not to. You can always write something down and give to it someone (celebrant, another speaker) to read it out for you - though best not to spring it on them at the last minute.

2. Much depends on the setting, on the circumstances of the person's death, on who else is speaking, so a bit of background enquiry and thought will help.

3. Once you've thought about 1. and 2. above, just be true to your own feelings; probably best not to "put on a Sunday voice," as Joyce Grenfell wrote!

4. Having said that, if you can get a sense of the general tone of what's going to happen (funerals vary enormously in this) you will be able to avoid anything truly inappropriate. But there's no need to be mealy-mouthed.

5. Write it out, and send it to the celebrant/vicar/officiant etc, (or  if that's not possible, the undertaker.) If all speakers do that, s/he can check for overlaps, incongruities etc - though it's best to try and find out what other speakers will cover. e.g. "I don't know much about her early life, so I'll leave that to the family, but I worked alongside her for 25 years, so I'll speak mostly about that - OK?" And the bottom line is if you should be seriosuly delayed, you can stop having a coronary because you can't get to the lectern in time - the celebrant can read it out from you, as it were.

6. Try not to worry about getting upset, because: they're all on your side; there's nothing wrong with pausing for a gulp and a sniff; if the celebrant has a copy of what you're going to say, you'll have the confidence that s'/he can carry on if you completely collapse - and knowing that, you won't.

7. Read what you've written, rehearse it aloud, get inside it. This will mean that you won't have to read it out ponderously, like Orders of the Day, but can look at the people from time to time (but don't look at the front row if they are upset!) And stop your rehearsing the night before - just a quick read-through on the morning of the funeral.

8. Much depends on the setting - acoustics vary hugely. Try and get there early, see if there's a quiet minute to try out speaking from the front (lectern, pulpit, whatever). Generally, I think people need to speak a little more slowly than they think, even after they have told themselves to slow down, and a little more loudly than they think, even after they've told themselves to speak up. The gathering does want to hear you! Nerves can make you speed up - so: breathe....

9. Take your time - it's your space and time, for a precious 3.5 minutes or however long you've got. Own it - somewhere between intimidated and cocky is where you might want to be.

10. Keep to your time allocation - it can really screw up the other speaker/s if you decide on the spur of the moment to pop in another few stories for four minutes. We don't allow enough time for crem funerals in this country - but there's not much you can do about that except stick to your time. The next family in will thank you for doing so.

11. You could always just wing it and speak not from notes or a script but straight from the heart with whatever is on your mind on the day - but I can only remember three or four people who did so in 360+ funerals.  One of those gave one of the very best tributes I've ever heard, but he is a genius. One of them was - truly dreadful. Personally, I'd write down every word. You don't have to stick rigidly to it, of course (though nb time allocation) - but it's there, in front of you.

If you do a good job for someone who mattered to you, you will feel not just relieved, but pleased and justifiably proud afterwards.

So if you've decided you'll do it - go for it! It's an honour to speak for someone you cared about, and everyone there will/should feel grateful to you.

doing grief, doing ceremonies part 2 - celebrants and the funerals of relatives

(This is a slightly more specialised post than usual, since it's about carrying out the role of funeral celebrant for someone who was close to you; if that doesn't, quite understandably, interest you, you are excused! But if you are a celebrant, it's an issue worth considering, because sooner or later....)

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:

                                     (Havant, since you asked)
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:

                                                          (Not this one, obviously...)
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.