An unexpectedly honest funeral

In what Rupert Callender called recently "this movement" (hope it is!)there have been views expressed concerning the specific gravity of people's mourning at a funeral. The movement's imperative seems to be: ministers and celebrants should encourage people not to skate over the top of their grief, not offer emollient words, not be inhibited and "traditional" yet not to be trivial and jokey either.

Whilst all this seems eminently sensible, I think there may be a lot of interesting subtexts and hidden preferences here, about: disdain for what's seen as outdated middle-class English inhibitions and reserve; a fascination with the way other cultures do death and funerals - maybe even a kind of exoticism; a desire for colour, drama, ritual in an increasiongly (some say...)homogenised culture.

We've discussed: honest vs dishonest funerals; neatness and order vs spontaneity and the untidyness of grief, of life itself; a funeral as an artefact vs a funeral as a self-defining event; audience vs participants, and so on.

Given quite a lot of agreement around the idea that our culture, outside of those with powerfully-held religious beliefs, has a dysfunctional and psychically dangerous relationship with death itself, much of the discussion has been about the role and responsibility of ministers (oh, OK, celebrants) and undertakers in leading the people to the Promised Land of funerals that are better at helping people to grieve.

I thought today's funeral was going to be one of the dishonest ones. I couldn't meet the family - I don't think any secular minister in our area could have done - and that always troubles me.Funerals can be prepared over the wires at a distance, but I think there's the risk of generating something a little etiolated, albeit efficient.

The lengthy tribute written by a daughter was affectionate, acknowledged that her dad liked a drink, and emphasised his love of comedy, comics and jokes, as well as his obvious strengths. Had just a couple of fairly conventional expressions of loss. They didn't want the curtain drawn, they wanted it to be "positive." The musical choices were relentlessly upbeat. This, I thought, will be an avoidance job, causing more pain and grief later on, perhaps. (My arrogance - how can I possibly know what is the right way for them to grieve?)

So I did what I could to balance it. I pointed out what a funeral was for - to say goodbye to a body, to enter a new world without X's physical presence, a world in which all that he means to you etc. I included a couple of poems that offered a little ballast without being "gloomy", and they seemed to go down well. The daughter's tribute went down a storm - lots of smiles, laughs, knowing looks. They really wanted to hear about his life, his jokes, rehearse family memories. For once, the cliche "to celebrate a life" seemed true.

I explained that we wouldn't be drawing the curtain but we would have a few words of committal and farewell. That went in respectful silence, a few sniffles. Final cheery song, I stepped down. They went over to the coffin. The little granddaughter touched it slowly and gently, in a thoughtful sort of way. The widow hugged her son and they sobbed for a minute or so, lots more tears, then outside - more smiles, cheerful chatter.

They got it absolutely right for them. There wasn't any avoidance going on. They wanted, and got, what is so often a lifeless cliche - smiles through the tears. There was a lot of affectionate recognition of the sort of bloke he was. They knew what a funeral is for, OK. They weren't avoiding anything. They laughed when they wanted to, they cried when they wanted to. It was, for them, an honest funeral. I'm absolutely certain of that.

I learned a lot today. The point that it's them not us; the understanding of what "a unique funeral" really means - it extends to ways of mourning and of showing grief, as well as what's said and done; the unpredictable nature of an authentic event; the uselessness of cultural generalisations when we're faced with life's lack of tidy geometry; the usually futile nature of my anxieties and preconceptions - all underlined for me.

And if it appears a family wants to avoid grief and skate over the thin ice of their loss, is it my role to break the ice? In any case, as I learned today, I may well be entirely wrong - they may be having a merry time, then crack up for two minutes, then laugh again. Wish I was more like that myself!


There can only an honest funeral for this family, and then the next one, and the one after that...and it always has to be searched for, and we have to help them find it. Maybe that takes more cultural self-effacement from us than I'd realised.

I may be an expert in funerals in one sense,(I've done a lot of them) but I'm not an expert in next week's family's needs. They will be the experts in what they need. I have to find it with them. My views of authentic funerals, honest funerals - they don't really matter very much! I have to make my own position and performance authentic, or I'll lose them. The rest is not silence - it is theirs.