I get to meet people that I might never cross paths with otherwise, and this for me is just one of the many blessings of doing the work that I do. This week I was asked by my local FD to support a woman in the next village to hold a funeral for her husband. S wanted a simple ceremony and soon, no hanging about. Partly because it was near to Christmas, partly to be discreet and pragmatic, to get this part out of the way. J had been experiencing dementia for some years, and had needed an increasing amount of her care (full time in the last months), and S had accepted that in the old days pneumonia was termed 'the old man's friend', and that in this way, J's time had come and we were to accept that and move forwards to this next step.
I phoned on the Sunday and we arranged to meet on the Monday. I am used to having about 2 weeks to meet and prepare a service, but in some cases, for a variety of reasons, there is a week or less. The whole process of composing is so much easier if our communication flows easily. I can offer ideas, and the client says yes or no. They tell me the story, help me to learn about their loved one, and I start to build a picture in my head, a sense of who they were, what their life was like and how best to write and share those details for the day.
Our first meeting, a lovely house, and a very warm welcome. S has written things down, she starts to tell me, in her own way, sometimes (naturally) jumping about a bit as the process of telling me helps her too, to put the details into place. I learn about J's roots, his parents, the things that he loved the most (sport and travel, although someone's loves can never ever be summarised into titles like that!) I hear about the kinds of sport, and the kinds of travel at length as I trust my pen to keep up, bubbles of information spread across the pages, arrows here and there, headings, dates, figures.
On this visit, S shows me recent images on her phone of J and remembers a few photos at the end before I go that are in frames around the house. I can feel her desire to show me, help me see and hear and understand. She says that for the last week in the hospital, in a side room, as she sat with J for what she felt was her extra time with him, even though his body was very close to stopping, she met the staff and shared his stories with them too. Photographs of the man he has been, she wanted them (and me) to hear and see the real J, and these shone through beautifully in the images. She spoke that his individual dresser (herself) kept him looking so well !!
This meeting was an opportunity to check on the sensitive details of what is it like at the chapel? What will happen at the beginning? Do we sit or wait outside? And at the end, are there noises, does the coffin descend or disappear off in any way. How does it all happen? We gently and practically talk through each of these transitions, so that S can know what to expect.
It was a busy week for me with one thing and another, but for me the preparation of a funeral, at a steady and sure pace, takes total precedence. Partly I guess for self-care reasons, because it is the thing I would be most worried about if I got any part of it wrong (and I have a very high bar!), I don't want to be waking up with worry about things I've forgotten, so I am very attentive and sure as a priority that the service is bubbling away. When I'm holding a family for this preparation phase they are high in my thoughts for that time. I have learned that a couple of phone calls here and there are good to let them know each stage that we are at, to continue the conversation, for me to keep listening, somehow keep aligned with their wishes so that the service will be as close a fit as it can be.
On the Tuesday evening, I receive a phone call from a school friend of J. We can't find a mutual time to make an appointment, so it makes sense to have a chat now. I let the children know that I'm busy for the next ten minutes or so (which they to some extent adhere to, except when we experience a power cut in the middle of the call and the associated pandemonium goes on behind me!) I listen to K as he talks me through various sporting terms that I don't really understand but jot down as best I can. Some stories, smiles, listening and writing. I ask for K's email so that he can see these when I have included them in the tribute - he can let me know if I've phrased the terms correctly!
I start to write on the Wednesday morning, a dedicated two hours in the library, I love it there as there is no washing up or other jobs to distract me. I put the songs that S has chosen on to a playlist on my phone and have them on a loop as I write. Like with my bubbles on the written page, my typing style starts like that too, perhaps going with the different music pieces (some are reflective, some rousing, others joyful), I hop through different parts of the service finding the tone, the voice that fits this particular service.
I have already made an appointment to pop in to S again for the Wednesday afternoon so that we can go through the tribute together and add, amend or check what I have written. This is easier because she lives about 10 minutes away from me. When I work with clients that have other family members around to feed in the details, to support each other and grapple over what to include/not include etc. I may use email so that they can all be involved. In this case, I knew that S was the main woman in charge, and I felt intuitively that I wanted to offer to be with her for the first draft. She was thankful for this and agreed to me calling over.
I was sandwiching a lot in this week, but explained this (not in detail of course! but just keeping S in the loop so that she knew she was a priority and that I was holding a lot). So our second meeting needed to be within an hour. I read what I had, we changed some parts and it opened up spaces for S to add more, things she had thought about in between times, clarifications. S had also found carefully kept albums and files to show me more images to go with the stories. To place J in some of the many experiences he had in his life.
I was able to flow this all together the next morning and we spoke on the phone to read through the whole tribute. I also was able to check how to describe J's death so that the other mourners at our service could learn that detail (as much or as little as felt right to S). S asked what do we do now, and we agreed that there was no need for more calls or editing. I would write the rest of the service myself, the closing words and the blessing (she knew me now enough to know my writing style) and see her the next day at the crematorium. We spoke a little around when to arrive, what the grounds are like, what to expect.
I then carry on with my Thursday, and some other responsibilities to my working week, and in the evening, I start to weave the closing words together. This is much more intuitive process, now that the facts and figures are down and agreed upon, I am finding words, themes, phrases that will bring some support to the attendees, will allow us all to honour and respect the moment. This is longer and shorter in some cases than others. Some clients are clear what they want. Some have chosen poems that sum it up perfectly for them. Some, the words are just there. For *all* this is a sensitive process that often finds many drafts and sentences before the final ones fall in to place.
I can find myself too tuning in to the person we are remembering. I ask them! I let them know I want the best words that we can find to honour their last moments. And in this case, I went to sleep that night with an intention - May my sleep help me to be clear about what to say.
Sure enough, as I woke the next day ( a little early it has to be said, but sometimes this is the quietest best time of day to truly hear and write what comes), the details bubbled out and I went downstairs, still without my specs (perhaps the words come out clearer the less in our day-to-day brain that we are!) and i firstly jotted, then typed them out.
When the service is written, I get a 'job done' feeling. In my own little way, i feel satisfied, and I often will mutter Masterpiece. When I finish the script it is my very best work in that moment, every time.
I will continue this on the next post! The afternoon of the funeral >
