When this pandemic began early in the year, friends saids to me, “You’ll do very well out of this crisis, there will be lots of funerals to conduct.” Did they imagine everybody involved in the funeral industry rubbing their hands in glee in anticipation of lots of work? Of course we didn’t think that for one minute. Like everybody, we dreaded what lay ahead, we didn’t want to see families suffer, losing loved ones before their time. It’s been horrible seeing people distressed and shocked because in the main, these deaths were so unexpected. An elderly person who’s had a fall going into hospital only to pick up Covid and die. A bus driver in his sixties, overweight with diabetes who could have lived another ten years at least.
But surprisingly, like many celebrants, I haven’t been very busy during this difficult time. Deaths haven’t actually been much higher than they normally are but also many more celebrants and humanists have joined the profession as a result of the crisis. One funeral director told me today, at the start of the lockdown people were worried about losing their jobs and decided to re-think, re-skill, re-train. Some looked to the funeral industry as a great bet – a job that was likely to be incredibly lucrative. Consequently the celebrant market has been flooded yet again with new recruits.
Funerals are strange occasions at the moment. I arrived at the crematorium today and had to sit in the car until just before the start of the service because the waiting rooms are currently closed. I would normally mingle with other ministers and funeral directors; it’s a great opportunity to connect and catch up. As I waited I watched families get out of their cars, different households hugging, kissing and clinging to each other. As they approached the chapel they all pulled their masks out, they knew what was expected of them, just as they would if they were approaching a shop–– it’s been drummed into us for weeks now. Several months ago pallbearers and funeral directors didn’t wear masks, but they do now. I wished I’d worn a black one, it would have looked more dignified and appropriate or maybe I would have looked like a bank robber. Instead I put my flowery mask on and my glasses misted over making it hard to engage with the mourners as we all waited outside the chapel.
Inside the chapel there were 30 chairs all separated from each other which looked very odd and not right at all given the nature of the occasion. Families need to sit next to one another, they need to comfort each other, pass tissues up and down the row and reach out if somebody is struggling. As I stood at the lectern looking out across the small sea of masked faces it was hard to read their emotions and connect with each person because the masks acted as a barrier, but I did the best I could.
At the end of the service the curtains closed around the coffin. This is also a new practice to discourage mourners from gathering at the coffin after the service, hugging each other and touching the coffin.
Are these measures really stopping the transmission of the virus or simply adding to the distress of families who surely have been through enough already?