Turning Up at the Funeral

I don’t really learn things very well by being told them

Generally I have to find things out for myself, the hard way, in order for them to effectively sink in.  Nobody ever told me this fact, I learned it myself, so you see what I mean.

For most of my life, I held a particular attitude to funerals.  A funeral is a stressful, emotional, tragic time for the poor people left behind.  The last thing they need is me turning up at their door in my darkest clothes to shake their hand and mumble about how very sorry I am.  What the hell good does that do anyone, to have me doing that?

(Photo courtesy of: Eddie Mallin " monosnaps")

The best thing I can  do is leave them to their grief, secure in the knowledge that I share a little in that grief and feel sad for them and am thinking of them at this terrible time.  They know all that, I don’t need to be troubling them to tell them what they already know.  So I’ll stay away and that will be for the best.  Yes… for the best…

That was how I thought.

It is a strong tradition here in Ireland that people come out to sympathise with the bereaved family.  There are often huge queues of good people waiting to express their condolences at a funeral.  I always really thought I was doing everybody a favour by not adding to this well-meaning melee.

I learned how very wrong I had been a few years ago.  Like all things it wasn’t something I could be told, I just had to find it out for myself.  The hard way.

After Mum died, I found myself standing in the top pew of the church, all dressed up, along with my family, waiting for the people to be let in to file past and shake my hand.  Although, like I said, I tended to stay away from these things, I had obviously been to enough of them to know how they worked.  The good people shake everybody’s hand along the row, they chat a bit to the family members they know and they nod to the people they don’t and then they move back down the church to await the service which will follow.

The people came.  First in a trickle, then in a steady flow.  There were people I hadn’t seen in years, there were people who I had never seen at all.  Some said lots of stuff, some shuffled uncomfortably by and said nothing.  It took a few hours for everyone to visit with us and express their condolences.

I found it was a good thing.

In fact, it changed my view on such things.  It turned me around completely.  Let me see if I can adequately express why this was.  It’s not so easy to do.

The flow of people, old faces and new, created an almost overwhelming wave of positive support.  No one person did or said anything particularly apt or consoling.  Many were perhaps a bit awkward and uneasy, as I would inevitably be in the same circumstances.  But the mere presence of each person, the simple fact of them ‘showing up’ built up, in tiny units, to become something warm and uplifting and reassuring and good.  It seemed to confirm that Mum had many friends, that she had been part of a community, that she was loved and that she would be missed.  Each person who filed in and flitted past our sad little row made a huge difference to the day.  It is difficult to overstate how big a deal it was.

Perhaps you’re not like me, perhaps you actually can be told something rather than having to find it out for yourself.  If you’re dubious about going to a funeral-removal and worry that you don’t know what to say let me reassure you on that point.  You don’t actually have to say anything.  There is nothing you can say to make a difference anyway – the person is gone and for those in the front row it is a very very sad thing.  All you have to do is be there, be a part of the weight of humanity that can count for so much on these, our hardest days.

One other little tip.  During the Mass or whatever, if you happen to know any of the prayers or responses or songs, belt them out a bit.  It’s a lonely place up in the front row and you don’t really know if there’s anyone there behind you unless you can hear them.  And hearing them is another one of those small reassuring things that can count for much.

So, anyway, these days, when someone I know dies, I try to attend and sympathise.  I have seen for myself the inestimable value of that tiny gesture.

I guess we live, and learn… and die.

I'm Gonna Take This With Me.

I'm going to be facetious now.

So brace yourself.

I was thinking - what with all the doom and gloom that's currently around - wouldn't it be nice if I could write a post that would just raise a smile and... and 'accentuate the positive' and generally make you want to go and hug the cat.

(Go, go, hug him... hug him real tight... squeeeeeeeezzzze.)

But, as I was striving for this unerringly happy post, there was only one question that kept jumping into my head. It wouldn't go away.

So the 'happy post' turns out to be just a question.

"What song would I like to have played at my funeral?"

I know, I know, sorry, it's not exactly the cheeriest thing ever, is it? But it's what I was thinking of and I couldn't shake it off. So I'll play you the song I'd like to have played at my funeral down at the bottom.

But this all made me wonder, what tune/song would you like played at yours. Really, it did.

Now, you see, the post becomes almost salvageable. Granted, it may never be the happy-go-lucky recession-beater that I was aiming for but, at worst, we may yet achieve a little public service blogging here.

See, if you tell me what tune you want at your send-off, and then I hear that you died, I can contact the next of kin with the information.

That'd be kind of good, wouldn't it?

Perhaps you could do the same for me? I have a post prepared that's linked to my pulse so, thirty minutes after it stops, the post will come on the blog and announce my untimely... etc. Then, upon reading it, you all could email and remind my family about the song I want played.

Okay?

Now, you may well ask, why doesn't the silly fecker just name the song in this epic pulse-related blog-post of his? Simple answer. That would be too easy, wouldn't it?

Anyway, here's my current funereal music. This may change as I get older and whither further, as I fully expect to. I'll keep you posted, literally.

Oh, and this song is my choice. Right? You go and get your own. Then come tell me all about it. I'd love to hear.

At least it's a change from the 'Seven Odd Things' meme, isn't it?

Okay. Are we happy yet?