I came across these amazing words in "Untold Stories" by Alan Bennett. Writing about his mother's ceremony at Weston-Super-Mare crematorium, he reflects on a ceremony seemingly detached from any real emotion or meaning...
“Before that (the committal), though, there will be
the faint dribble of a hymn, which is for the most part unsung by the men and
only falteringly by the women. The deceased is unknown to the vicar, who in
turn is a stranger to the mourners, the only participant on intimate terms with
all concerned, the corpse included, being the undertaker. Unsolemn, hygienic
and somehow retail, the service is so scant as to be scarcely a ceremony at
all, and is not so much simple as inadequate. These clipboard send-offs have no
swell to them, no tide, there is no launching for the soul, flung like
Excalibur over the dark waters. How few lives now end full-throated to hymns
soaring or bells pealing from the tower. How few escape a pinched suburban
send-off, the last of a life, some half-known relatives strolling thankfully
back to the car.”
I love the expression "launching the soul, flung like excalibur over the dark waters" - wonderful writing (but then with Alan Bennett every word works so hard). The point of sharing this is that it really is possible to create a ceremony that is heartfelt and personal. With some thought, this can be achieved even within the time-limited setting of a crematorium: by booking extra time, dressing the space and encouraging family members to actively participate. But better still, don't have the main ceremony at the crematorium - something I shall explore further in my next blog...
Today I am mostly rehearsing a ceremony and listening to R Kelly 'World's Greatest' - would love to include the song at a ceremony!
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