Why am I not a funeral director?


The funeral was hard and heavy. Not so much for the tears, just for the finality of it. I start to understand better the exquisiteness of Death. It brings emotions that one never experiences otherwise. Plumbing the depths of oneself and turning out all manner of hidden pain, fear, and confusion. Realms of rarely, if ever, visited feelings.
I thought about my fathers funeral whilst at this one. I considered who and how I was then; angry, using drugs, confused and hopelss. And who I am now. Years have passed and so much has happened, good and bad, I have changed a lot and am sober for long time, but the big difference was that for my friend there was an open casket. We could see her, and absolutely see that there was no Soul. No spark. No life. It was finished. With other funerals there was no view of death. Just a neat box. Easy to deal with on an immediate level, but impossible to grap the end on an deeper layer.
Through all of this last few days I have met extraordinary poeple. Kind and compassionate. All with the consciousness of easing the transition trough such a difficult time. The person that struck me the most was the funeral conductor. The grace with which he ushered us through the experience of the funeral and the cremation service was magnetic. He had such kindness A calm control over all of it, yet totally in the background.
I had to oversee the time at the cremation ground, he stood at the back, and away from the priest it was a profound experience. There was no managing of the pain, no one could give the responsability for their feelings to another. I certainly was not prepared to hold them, and there it was a real goodbye.
Afterwards Edward, the conductor, drove back in the car with me and asked me why I did not become a funeral director.
It was an interesting conversation, as for a long time before we started Devotion we looked into running a funeral parlour. The conversation with Edward took me right back to that longing. We had decided not to do it because of having small children, but I wonder if there is still some way of providing something for those close to death.
I think with the way the world is heading and all that is coming, helping to process death is an important role, but how to do it with out running the parlour. I have thought about it a lot over the last few days and will now see how it emerges again. I have always had a facination with it. Scared but drawn towards it, partly because of psychic ability and partly because of the years of fear of abandonment. I think this fear has gone, largely through the process of Baptiste being so ill, but I still linger near death. Lie awake at night imagining a huge bang and it is all over. So morbid in a way, but I don’t feel sad any more. She is gone. Time heals and there is space for another person to come into our lives.