Archive: October 2012

Thoughts of a funeral-goer

5 October 2012
Charles
7 Comments
Categories: Thoughts of a funeralgoer

Posted by Lyra Mollington

‘They’re dropping like flies!’

This was Daisy as she came in through our front door on Monday morning. Barry was close behind, shrugging his shoulders by way of an apology.

I replied, ‘You’d better come in for a coffee.’

My (or rather Mr M’s) new espresso machine is proving extremely popular. Daisy is a latte, I’m a double shot cappuccino and Barry is an Americano. Mr M is Earl Grey.

Daisy was in a bit of a flap. ‘Barry’s the last one standing!’

Thankfully, Barry provided the details. When he was a school boy, his best friends were Tom and Richard. The three were inseparable. And, inevitably, their class-mates referred to them as Tom, Dick ’n’ Barry. Tom died in his mid-fifties. Richard died at the weekend – he was only 64.

Daisy was waiting expectantly for me to express my sympathies and ask for more details. However, I found myself on a completely different train of thought. Barry is seven years younger than Daisy – well I never!

I regained my composure. ‘That really is far too young. I’m so sorry. When is the funeral?’

I then discovered why Daisy was flappier than usual. Barry had been asked by Richard’s wife (his THIRD, interjected Daisy) to speak at the funeral.

‘SPEAK! AT A FUNERAL!’ emphasised Daisy. I made a mental note to buy a tin of decaffeinated ground coffee.

When Richard discovered that he was terminally ill, he wrote a letter. He then asked his wife Sally if she could ask someone to read it out at his funeral. Understandably, no-one in the family feels confident enough to do this. Cue Barry, Richard’s oldest friend.

Barry has mixed feelings. He is honoured to be asked. But he is also terrified. Not of speaking in public – as a retired teacher, he’s done plenty of that. The problem is speaking at a funeral, in full view of the other mourners. Daisy and I had thought we’d made a breakthrough when Barry finally admitted that his dislike of funerals stems from when he was a boy and he wasn’t allowed to attend his father’s funeral. Unfortunately, although he no longer dislikes funerals (any more than anyone else, that is) the sight of a coffin unleashes decades of repressed emotion. Or that’s how he views it. We witnessed a burial recently, from a distance, and all I can recall is Barry wiping away a tear. Hardly a torrent of grief. Nevertheless, if it’s important to him that he should be seen to maintain a stiff upper lip, then I was determined to help.

Could I read the letter? Could the vicar or the celebrant read it?

No. Barry believes it is his duty to read it. So I suggested that he reads Richard’s words aloud so many times that they become meaningless. I also offered to come along – I could stare at him menacingly if I see his top lip begin to wobble.

He was willing to try anything. Unfortunately it’s a bit of a trek – a crematorium on the outskirts of Aldershot, in Hampshire. But Barry’s going to drive and there’s bound to be a nice café nearby.

Where fresh air strikes openly and freely

4 October 2012
Charles
No comments
Categories: funerals in other cultures

In Namibia, Michael M Liswaniso, writing for AllAfrica.com, deplores the new custom of spraying air freshener at funerals. 

I will start by saying: Eish no please, enough is enough! It is partly inhumane and implies that our loved ones smell when we use air fresheners moments before we lower the coffin into the ground.

I have attended numerous funerals in this country but I have never seen anybody who stands next to the coffin and sprays it with some fragrances in the name of ‘Airoma strawberry’ or any other just to wind down the so-called ‘filthy smell’ emanating from the deceased inside the coffin.

That was until I attended the funeral of one of my close family members. I did not appreciate what I saw. The same thing happened at least at five different funerals in my mother’s town.

I know that when we die and are kept in the mortuary for several days – our lifeless bodies are likely to start disintegrating to an extent that they could partly smell, especially if the morgue is not functioning properly. But such a scenario is unlikely because of the hospital personnel who work hard to keep mortuaries in good working condition.

But to my surprise, most communities in Caprivi and funeral undertakers in some parts of the country have added the ‘air fresheners’ to their shopping list whenever they are to bury their loved ones. Apparently this is done to “avoid the bad smell at the final resting place of the deceased”.

Now, this is what perplexes me totally.

In all the funerals or burial services I attended in Caprivi and other parts of the country, there was no reek of any kind from the coffins. Yet, people continue to spray the coffins even during the funeral service in the church.

The practice distracts the mourners from paying attention to the service, disrupting the entire funeral service.

“Our morgue is always in a bad state that’s why many families have resorted to buying air fresheners at funerals just to avoid a bad smell emanating from the lifeless bodies of their loved ones,” said one source.

I find the practice disrespectful in the sense that even if there is really a bad smell, an 180 ml can of air freshener would never surmount the smell? I do not think so, given the fact that burials take place outdoors at cemeteries where fresh air strikes openly and freely. In addition, air fresheners are mainly meant for indoor ‘isolated’ areas – maybe at a memorial service in the church but still ….

“I saw it for the first time but we don’t do that in my tradition. It is really being disrespectful, it would even imply that the deceased is even stinking to the extent that even a dead dog with maggots is better while in actual fact that is not the case – we are human beings,” – these words came from a friend of mine who accompanied me to a funeral recently.

I have seen and heard of several people who have complained about the practice but the ‘new’ tradition seems to have found a new permanent home in Caprivi and other parts of the country.

My humble suggestion is for people to leave the deceased to take their last journey. Why not then bath our loved ones for the last time, and dress them in their favourite attire and let them wear their most ‘expensive’ perfumes that they might leave behind?

I guess this will help instead of letting one person spray around the coffin for several hours at the gathering. I hope this will assist, if not, then let’s look at other avenues that might work. Until next time, I say Kozo! Eewa

Walking away

4 October 2012
Charles
15 Comments
Categories: Public Health funeral

Public health, council or (a new term to us) public funerals are on the rise in Burnley Lancashire, a once-thriving mill town from which manufacturing has ebbed, leaving a generally impecunious population — but a halfway decent football team. A report in the Lancashire Telegraph tells us:

In 2007 Burnley Council paid for three public funerals at a cost of £9,000, of which £7,000 was recovered through the deceased’s estate. But in recent years that number has risen by up to 400 per cent, with 13 public funerals in 2010, at a cost of £16,000, of which only £4,800 was recovered. There were nine public funerals in 2011 and there have been seven so far in 2012.

Jill Wolfendale, the council’s principal environmental health officer, says: 

“In the last three years there seems to be an increase in those public funerals where there are relatives but they are unwilling or unable to make the funeral arrangements. Council staff make every effort to point out to family or friends who may want to make arrangements but have concerns or difficulties meeting the costs that they may be entitled to claim a grant to help towards costs. However, in recent years relatives are increasingly unable or unwilling to do this as generally they still have to provide up front deposits to funeral directors.”

Clearly the dysfunctional Social Fund Funeral Payment has a lot to answer for here. What is curious is the rising number of people who are unwilling to assume responsibility for burying or cremating their own. Is there a social trend emerging? 

Full report here.

Second first of the day

4 October 2012
Charles
2 Comments
Categories: coffins

Andy Clarke and his partner, artist Holly Bridgestock-Perris, have sold their first, innovative Curve coffin. Andy’s new concept was inspired by a “desire was to make a softer curved product, that moved away from the angular harshness of the traditional shape that’s been with us for hundreds of years, and yet retain the traditional robustness of timber in its manufacture.”

Inevitably, the story behind their first sale is a sad one. The coffin is for a baby. The family are arranging everything themselves. 

Andy tells me that he has refined the Curve coffin since we featured him on the blog back in April, and he’s very pleased with the way it looks now. 

The coffins come in plain or painted. The children’s coffin, the Bambini, is the one with the rope handles at either end.

You can find Andy and Holly’s website here.  

First first of the day

4 October 2012
Charles
2 Comments
Categories: Hearses

We stood and whooped and hollered here at the GFG-Batesville Shard when we opened this email from Darren Abey: 

Hi Charles

Only Fools and Hearses have just carried out our first funeral in Berkshire. The family loved the send off , they said it was priceless and would never forget that their father had the best celebration of his life possible. Dell Trotter he may not have been but he was one of life’s characters.  That’s why I built this hearse, it gave everyone a day never to forget.

I am over the moon, its worked, it’s proved we want to celebrate our families’ wishes. As Del Boy said, ‘Never stop believing, Rodders’.

Let’s hope this hearse brings more smiles to the funeral world.

We hope it’s brought a smile to your own Thursday countenance. Well done Darren!!

Death by Christmas shopping

3 October 2012
Charles
3 Comments
Categories: Uncategorised

Posted by Richard Rawlinson

There was a time when the skull and crossbones symbolised ‘Danger’ when displayed on poisonous products or worn on the clothes of Punks, Goths, Hell’s Angels, pirates and SS soldiers.

For some years now, it’s been a ubiquitous part of mainstream fashion, found on everything from Debenhams babywear to John Lewis cushion covers.

If you go to Google Images and key the word ‘skull’ followed by pretty much any product, you’ll be spoilt for choice: duvet covers, wallpaper, plant pots, teacups, loo brushes, dog baskets, mobile phone holders, trainers, umbrellas, cufflinks, bras…

Threnody: a progress report

3 October 2012
Charles
9 Comments
Categories: funeral music

Posted by Tim Clark

Threnody is a group of people mostly drawn from the ranks of Bangor Community Choir. We are ready to sing at funerals in places that don’t normally have choral singing, particularly at crematoria. Charles has already been kind enough to feature us here, and I felt it might be time for an update. 

We have settled into a pattern of monthly practices, in a local village hall, with add-ons when we feel like it in a friendly front room, and last-minute work-ups when we need to prepare for a funeral. We have sung at seven funerals so far: two in one crem, two at another, one at a village hall prior to a woodland burial, and one – well, that was Threnody’s first tour abroad. More on that below. 

That’s about one in five of the funerals I’ve helped with (I’m a celebrant) since we got going. When I’m meeting a family, it’s sometimes easy to tell whether or not Threnody might be wanted. It’s often been observed that people want something familiar at such a time, so sometimes the response is “oh no, that sounds a bit unusual, he wouldn’t have wanted that.” I don’t want to coax them, but I don’t want them to miss the opportunity to have something that might make a lot of difference to the ceremony. Tricky balance. 

Sometimes we are asked to help because the family want a hymn or two, and they are worried that it will sound thin with a small congregation; then they may be happy to hear that we can also sing, unaccompanied by organ and congregation, at particular moments. Entry, committal, departure are obvious points. 

One lady, who was quite unsure about the idea to start with, was much moved by “Ar Hyd y Nos” at entry, and “Dona Nobis Pacem” at committal. We also joined the congregation to sing in unison along with the organ for a couple of hymns we didn’t have ready in parts. But I hope it doesn’t sound arrogant to say that we are not there just to swell the numbers along with the organ. The effect of a capella singing seems to be quite different – lighter, more immediate, I think more engaging. 

Sometimes, of course, a family is delighted and surprised that I can offer four-part, unaccompanied singing. We have a repertoire of about 20 songs and hymns. It’s not possible, alas, for us to learn a new song at three days’ notice, but the choice is reasonably wide and includes some well-known songs. 

Favourites include “Ar Hyd y Nos/All Through the Night,” “Morning Has Broken,” “Calon Lan,” “Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer,” “Amazing Grace,” as well as less obvious but effective choices such as “Eriskay Love Lament,” “Dona Nobis Pacem” as a round, “Sith Shaimh Leat” which is Gaelic for something close to “rest in peace.” All of these last three have worked very well in crematoria. We’re pleased with the repertoire we’ve worked up, and we’ll probably only add to it slowly, to keep us fresh. 

Interestingly, two families have said “we want hymns but we don’t want an organ.” So we sing, in harmony, the first phrase of the hymn just as an organist would play it, slowing down at the end, back to the start and then the congregation comes in. Provided I explain beforehand that’s what we’ll be doing, it works well. Hearing a Welsh/English congregation of fifty roaring through “Guide Me” with us is gooseflesh time! 

The members of Threnody love singing and are very committed to the work; for those who have perhaps been to very few funerals before, it can be quite a tough call. At a village hall, some of the sopranos were singing just a few feet from people in tears, and of course the songs themselves open up the emotions – that’s their job. 

We’ve overcome one crisis, when Colin and Anne Douglas left us to move to Scotland. They are both trained musicians, both sing like angels, and Colin did most of our arrangements. He also conducted us in our first five funerals. Franki has taken over the job twice now, very effectively, and we have at least three other members practising the role. We miss Colin and Anne very much – but you never know what talents a group of people have until you ask, do you? 

Administering Threnody can be tricky. Some of us work part-time or flexibly, some are retired, and all have to be contacted quickly. I don’t want to suggest Threnody to a family and then find out we haven’t got enough members available. But when we’re at work, enriching a crematorium funeral, it’s worth every anxious text and email. 

It must be said that the village hall funeral was the choir’s favourite – intimate, informal, much less time pressure on the whole thing.

And the foreign tour? 

An anxious lady phoned me from Shrewsbury. She knew it was a long shot but she wanted choral singing in Welsh at the funeral, and no-one was available locally. She said she would book transport for us and contribute to our favourite charity. I was very disappointed because I wasn’t available, and any case a local celebrant had been booked. I asked the choir how they felt. They were a bit startled, but they rose to the occasion, and they swept down from Bangor to Shrewsbury in a bus, sang for the lady, and when they got back in the bus, the good lady had put a hamper of sandwiches in there for them. I’m told they sung all the way home. The good lady was delighted with them.

I call that Bangor 1, Shrewsbury 0… 

Where’s the joy in death?

2 October 2012
Charles
10 Comments
Categories: Uncategorised

Posted by Kristie West

The following is a transcript of the talk Kristie delivered at the Joy of Death convention, 2012. Kristie works with bereaved people. You can find her website here. 

“The Joy of Death” festival.  What is that?  Is it just a lovely quirky name for a festival. Or perhaps just a provocative and controversial name? It it just a way to catch our attention?  Is it just a joke in very poor taste?

Or is it….the joy of death….a possibility. 

There are many things we naturally find joy in.  The joy of dance.  The joy of love….well maybe not first love which is often more insanity than joy.  The joy of little kids opening Christmas presents.  The joy of life. That works.  And the obvious – where the title of this festival has come from – the joy of sex. But the joy of death….?  This is not something we hear a lot. 

Is there any joy at all to be found in and around death? Or grief? And if there is…then why don’t we see it? And how the heck do we find it? 

This is what I want to share with you today.  Now this is a huge topic of great importance, in my opinion… and virtually never offered up for discussion. I could talk about it for days so I will do my best to do it justice in this short time. And I hope that you are all able to take away something – something new and different – to think about.  I might get a little deep (by might I mean definitely)… and I will be a little different.  But that is what we are here for.

I will mostly focus on death as it relates to our experience of losing someone, how we are touched by the death of others. 

I’ll give some practical advice on how to do what I talk about too… as theory is all well and good but it’s just nice ideas unless you know how to put it into practice. 

So… is there any joy to be found in death? A question that would be met by most, particularly those who have had deaths in their life, with a resounding no. No No No. Absolutely unequivocally no. 

And I would have completely agreed with you a few years ago. So please allow me to share a story with you. 

7 years ago now my father collapsed of a totally unexpected heart attack at home in NZ and died on the spot.  I got the call about his death from my mum a couple of hours later… and I was standing outside of my office in Australia with my suitcase waiting for a taxi to the airport, because I was already flying home to spend time with my nana, one of the most important people in my life, who was dying of cancer. Suffice to say Nana became my last priority. I arrived home to a panicking mother, a grief-stricken brother, a dead father, a mess.  That was just the beginning though. Lest she be forgotten, Nana almost died the day after my dad’s funeral. She ended up pulling through and dying 4 months later. And in the time in between we lost 4 other family members… so that when Nana died she made 6 deaths in 4 months for my family. 

To say that this period of time was hard, painful, confusing, life-changing – are all massive understatements. I often say I attended grief university. At times it was like a laughable black comedy. And I would laugh… because I was far too numb to cry. It felt like life had us all on the ground and was kicking us all in the guts… about every 3 weeks. It got to the point where I knew the damage was being done… but I couldn’t even feel the kicks anymore. These events ran into what were probably a couple of the hardest years of my life.  I thought it would never feel better. How could it? I thought I was stuck with this. I thought I would need a rolling subscription with my psychologist…. even thought the poor woman probably didn’t know what the heck to do with me. 

So when I say now that yes, yes absolutely yes – I see joy in death, then you should know that if I can find it… then potentially anyone can. I see now great beauty and meaning in death….these events to me now are not painful or negative – they are important and profound and they deserve a great deal of respect. 

Now this is not about positive thinking, focusing on the future or ignoring the past. It is not about ignoring or disowning any emotions or pain. But I am not going to talk about pain today… because what no-one needs from me is a talk on the sorrow of death. We have that part nailed.  We are experts at finding the sorrow. No-one needs my help seeing that. 

So if all this potential joy and beauty and meaning in death that I’m talking about… if it exists, why do most of us not see it?  Why didn’t I see it in the beginning?

Well the reason is not that it isn’t there. And it’s also not to do with the passing of time. There are lots of reasons why we don’t or can’t see anything good when we are touched by death but I’ll talk about the biggest in my opinion. 

The biggest reason we don’t see any good around death is that we are not open to it, we won’t permit ourselves to. We believe that death is bad and sad and that we don’t ever want it to happen to anyone we love… so the idea that there could be good can sound incredibly disrespectful. Indeed I’m sure many a person was horrified and took issue with the name of this festival. For many people it would push an immediate disgusted button and a wall would go up.

If we do see any good at all we might say, and only to certain people, ‘I know this sounds awful but……….’.   We know we aren’t supposed to be ok or appreciative or happy about anything that happens in death.

This is usually not a conscious thing we do… it is so ingrained in us to see only one side of death that it has become natural.

We believe it is respectful to see a death as totally tragic – we are even told that the pain we are in is a demonstration of love. (I get contacted by a lot of people worrying that they are heartless because they don’t hurt enough after a death).  We are meant to see only dark.  And so we block out the light without even realising it. 

Think of young children after a death. They will cry, then go and play and have fun, then cry again. As adults we can feel guilty having fun or laughing after a death.  It can feel disrespectful.

A kid might say ‘I’m really sad granddad died. I miss him. But it’s good that he can’t eat all the black jellybeans anymore because those are my favourite’. They see the bad… they also have an eye out for the good. And as adults how do we react to that?  ‘You mustn’t say that! That’s terrible. Don’t ever let your grandmother hear you say that’.  We teach them, just like we learnt, that there is nothing good to be seen in death.  That there is nothing to feel happy, relieved, or grateful about in death.

We learn that death is bad… and that it is inappropriate, that it is wrong, that it is disrespectful to view it any other way…….. so we block out the option of any other way. 

If you are not open at all to seeing something… you will not see it. 

Death is a normal natural part of our lives. Our lives begin and end.  Or at least this version of our lives if that makes more sense to you. As the last part of our life, as the last chapter in our stories, I believe that our deaths are very important – no matter how they happen. Because once they have happened, that has been written in stone – the ‘how you died’ cannot be changed. And for that reason I believe any death ought to be treated as important and valuable and with respect (and I said respect, not fear.  Huge difference though easily mistaken for each other around death).  Their death is part of someone’s life and it’s part of the story of who they were/who they are – and that makes it important. 

So first before we can find beauty or meaning or good in death we need to realise the repercussions of not seeing it. 

The memories in life that stay close to us, that we treasure, are the beautiful and meaningful ones.  They are the ones we see good in.  They are the ones that were worthwhile. Now often the death and loss of someone we love is a traumatic and painful memory. We don’t attribute anything good to it. 

Events that we only see as bad or ugly or wrong http://www.health-canada-pharmacy.com/strattera.html aren’t very meaningful to us or valuable or worthwhile.

And often death is seen as nothing but tragic. Now because we live in a society still very afraid to discuss or face death, people tend to live with the misguided belief that everyone we love, and ourselves, are guaranteed life till 95. Even though every day people die young, people die of illness, accident or disease. This is not at all uncommon.  But it is always seen as a tragedy and a shock..… so most of the time these events seem totally meaningless. Like they shouldn’t have happened. 

And when we take meaning from someone’s death… we take it from their life, because their death is a part of their life no matter how it happened.  The event is done – it can’t be changed, edited, undone.  To allow it to remain nothing but bad is to, without meaning to, dishonour the last chapter of someone’s life and to say it was for nothing.  We do not do this on purpose.  Generally we just don’t know any other way. 

When you can see even a little beauty in a death you honour them far more because then their death matters in a different way.  It can has a positive impact – instead of being responsible for ripping your life or your family’s lives apart – which no-one wants to be responsible for. And you can see that they were so amazing that even in their death they contributed to the lives of others in positive ways.  

Also when a memory is just painful to us we will eventually push it down – as humans we move away from pain, it’s a very practical element of our existence.  Over time we will stop thinking about painful memories. We like to focus on the good, to remember the happy times.  So when their death is nothing more than a bad memory we will generally block it out over time, and that is a part of their life and a part of them that we choose – either consciously or unconsciously – to block out. So we lose or give up parts of them in allowing their death to be just bad and sad and awful. 

A big part of someone’s legacy is the impact their death has on the people they love, and the world.  If they left a family torn to pieces, cursing the world, believing life and death are unfair, and unable to think about them without pain, – that is part of their legacy. 

It never sat right with me that my father’s legacy was supposed to be a family in pieces, unable to enjoy Christmas, or father’s day, or his birthday. A widow, two kids who were adults but still too young to say goodbye to their dad.  Not that man – no way. 

My dad’s legacy now? A wife who was shown strength, independence, intelligence, and a capability to do anything, that I don’t think she ever knew she had. A son who had the opportunity to step out of his father’s shadow and be the man of the family. A daughter who learnt her most beautiful and valuable lessons about life and death and who was led into work that inspired and fulfilled her more than she even imagined possible…. and the people she worked with who were able to share in that. He left a family not poorer from loss… but richer… and brought closer in a way that nothing else could have achieved. That is my dad’s legacy. That’s how amazing he was.  Even in his death did he contribute so much good to our lives. 

And that’s also how amazing any people you may have lost were. And this is what happens when you can find good in death. Let their legacy be bigger and even more spectacular.

This is what the joy of death looks like. 

So now hopefully we have a reason to be open to look for good in a death – for our sake and for the sake of the memories of those we have lost. 

So….. how the hell do you do it? How do you go about finding good? Particularly when all you see is pain and darkness.  But remember, that’s where I started too.

Well for starters… don’t go looking for ‘joy’ to start with. That can feel too big, too foreign, too impossible. Start small. With glimmers of good. Slivers of it.

It is like running a marathon. If you haven’t run, except for the bus, in 10 years you are not going to run a marathon tomorrow.  The idea will seem impossible, your body will not be at all prepared and it’s highly, highly unlikely you could do it. But you could go for a 10 minute jog tomorrow.  If I could convince you of why it’s good for your health and have you motivated and inspired to do it – you could do that. And then maybe another one 2 days after that. And maybe after 3 or 4 you’ll find you can run for 15 or 20 minutes.  Your body has some practise and it starts to open to the physical possibility.  It starts to open to what was not possible before.

It will build and build. Now you might find in those 10 minute runs you are still thinking ‘this is all very well…. but a marathon? I’ll never run a marathon’. Forget the marathon. Just focus on the 10 minute jog. One little run at a time. 

This is the same. Just look for one tiny good thing… then do it again. If you have never looked at death this way then start with the tiny jogs, the tiny good things. And let them build up. 

The question to ask yourself is what good came out of this death?   What good came out of this situation? Now the answers will be very different for every individual.I will give you some examples to get you thinking.  These are all real – based on my own experiences and those of people I’ve worked with.

If it was an illness did you get to share some special moment with them? Some words that you may not have shared under other circumstances?

Did this death teach you something valuable about life?

Did this death bring you closer to someone you love?

Did it change family dynamics?

Did it bring new relationships, friendships into your life?

Did it somehow free you of people you needed to be free of?

Did it create the space for you to do something new, to step up, or to be someone new?

Did you make a decision about something in your life that needed to change?

Did you find a new profession, a new calling, a new mission or purpose in life?

Did you find strength, compassion, wisdom, love in yourself that you did not know you had?

Did this start you on a new journey? There was a beautiful example of this last night. For those who heard Sarah Murray talk (at the awards ceremony) – she said, if I remember correctly, that only recently did someone point out to her that her dad’s death was the catalyst for the journey she took. Her journey, the book she wrote as a result, any person that was touched or helped by that book, every joy she experienced on her travels, every lesson learnt – all part of her father’s legacy. 

Do not say ‘but it was cancer’, ‘but they were young’, ‘but it was an awful car accident’, ‘but it was a suicide’, ‘but it was a murder’.  But but but but but.  I have worked with all of these scenarios…… and I can promise you there is always good to be found. So find it. For them. 

Start small…. and don’t invalidate the things you find by saying ‘but that doesn’t make up for it’, ‘but that doesn’t make it ok’. Remember…you are not running a marathon. Just a little jog. Find something good.

And when you do….. say thank you.  Even just a tiny thank you. Because you are acknowledging their legacy.  You are acknowledging what they left behind – let it be something that matters. 

We best honour someone who has died by seeing meaning and worth in every part of their lives. Don’t let any of it be a tragedy or a waste.  Don’t strip meaning from any part of who they were. 

My challenge to you today, if you choose to accept it, is to go away and try this. Just come up with one good thing. One tiny good thing. Then do it again in a couple of days.  But just start.  This is only one of the steps and it’s a small one, but I promise you… you do this and it will start to change the impact of this death on your life and your connection to and memories of the person or people you have lost, totally and amazingly.

Comments are back to where they are — anything you will say will appear instantly, unmoderated. Moderation will apply to commenters who have registered false email addresses and previously posted libellous or defamatory comments. 

 

Dead Good Culture?

1 October 2012
Charles
7 Comments
Categories: funeral directors

Posted by Simon Smith

What is affecting practices in the funeral industry and how can we improve them?

There has been a deluge of bad publicity for the funeral industry in recent weeks with the two programmes, Dispatches on Channel 4 and Exposure on ITV1. This was at least partly offset by the positive view of funeral directing portrayed in Dead Good Job, but we all cringe to see such awful behaviour and business practices and it is a great shame that the caring and diligent work done by so many is swept aside so easily by things that are wrong within our industry.

It is true that the bad practices were largely exposed in big companies, where the pressures on staff are often greatest to maximise profits and run ‘efficiently’, and where management is further from the daily work being undertaken, but there are lessons that can be learned throughout the sector.

There has been a great deal of sniping and blame within our industry, with funeral staff across the country pointing the finger and being “outraged” and “disgusted” by the behaviour of the staff who were filmed.  And no doubt they have been blamed and dealt with by the companies who employed them, who have been quick to claim these are isolated cases, presumably therefore rendering the management blameless.

I think we need to look at this more constructively and within a broader context. The big companies with outside shareholders and those with external investors such as venture capital companies put tremendous pressure on managers to squeeze the profits, because that is the only thing the investors are interested in. They have no idea what daily work is like and for them the investment is no more than a commodity to be traded in order to yield the highest possible return. Managers get ahead by running the most profitable units and staff, who may want to give families a more caring and time consuming service, fear for their jobs. Those people undertaking too many funerals every week inevitably become de-sensitised and hardened to their work, depersonalise it and protect themselves against the fact of facing your mortality each day, which is an uncomfortable reality of working in funerals. Most are poorly paid and given insufficient support to cope with the pressures and challenges they face. If you are not meeting the families and learning about the person who inhabited the body you are handling, your compassion isn’t being aroused by anything. If you are stressed and under pressure your compassion is supressed.I have worked in corporate culture change, and I have seen how quickly people leave their individual values at the door and take on the corporate ones. I have also worked in venture capital and I know the pressures these investment companies put on the companies to perform financially. The former business owners, who still own a chunk of the shares, stand to lose everything if they don’t meet their targets. They often wish they had remained independent and in charge of their own destinies.

The problems that have been recently highlighted by the TV programmes are systemic and driven by the company culture. Culture is the sum of the beliefs and values of the organisation, which then are translated into systems and behaviour. The beliefs and actions of the top management are followed all the way through the system. When what a manager says is not matched by their actions, staff know this immediately. When we call the company caring and then try and sell the families things they don’t really want, or deny them things that they do want because they aren’t profitable enough, staff feel betrayed. I believe that funeral directing is best suited to small companies because it keeps the work with families close to those making management decisions. At our small funeral directing company we each do everything. So when I am preparing a body, I know the people who love that person, I have heard stories about them. It makes it easy to care and to want to do the job as well as possible. The bigger companies somehow need to keep that ethos.

So in larger companies the management needs to work very hard to foster a genuine caring, compassionate and value-led culture. They need to have a zero tolerance policy not only on the kind of behaviour the programmes have highlighted, but also on the kind of pressure that encourages that behaviour and managers not walking their talk. Managers cannot point at the people below them and say it is their fault. Managers need to walk the floor, get involved in the work and lead by example. This is not just about knowledge and skills, but about attitudes. They need training to develop their own skills and attitudes, thereby passing those onto others. Funeral directing is a very complex and emotionally taxing job, requiring tender skills and an open heart. We are there to help families to create a funeral experience in which they can be involved and which has meaning for them, to provide information and support each family with creativity and improvisation. Each company has to develop a culture that supports these aims, and the systems that support the daily work.

Green Fuse and Chester Pearce Associates have created the Modern Funeral Directing training as a counter culture to the prescriptive style of training and education usually found in this sector. It advocates that attitudes and values are as important as knowledge and skills. It encourages people to think for themselves and to feel valued in their work. Funeral directors in charge of busy funeral homes and branches should consider this type of training and the importance of creating the right culture and attitudes in their companies. It is one way we can change things and avoid a repeat of the kind of behaviour we have seen. The funeral staff are the tip of the iceberg. The underlying problem is much deeper and must be tackled. Just launching an investigation and blaming individuals who have behaved badly is missing the point. Culture is subtle, it is translated into systems and behaviour without fail. What is the culture, the real culture not the nice words in the brochure, of your company? To find that out you need to study your company, what people say and what they do, very carefully.

Simon Smith is a director of Green Fuse Funerals, an independent funeral director and provider of training for Funeral Celebrants and Funeral Directors. Green Fuse was recently jointly awarded Funeral Director Of The Year 2012 by the Good Funeral Guide. He is author of Inner Leadership, and co-author of We Need To Talk About The Funeral. Previous to his funeral career Simon worked in venture capital with Charterhouse and then in leadership development and culture change, working with organisations including AstraZeneca, Parcelforce and parts of the NHS. He holds the Foundation Degree In Funeral Services from Bath University. Green Fuse runs a professional Funeral Celebrant Training and the ground breaking programme Modern Funeral Directing.

For more information visit www.greenfuse.co.uk  or call us on  01803 840779.

The Good Funeral Guide
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