People give me a rather funny look when I tell them that one of the best things about being a dog-collar is the funerals. They look appalled and shocked in equal measure, after all (they say) funerals are such sad affairs.
Actually they're not, they are often the most rewarding and also quite funny in their own little ways. You see all of life at funerals and there's no greater reward than having someone come back and tell you that the service let them see the deceased person and their life in context for the first time.
Mind you there are some strange things that happen before, during and after the service which add a little spice and excitement to the everyday ministerial role.
Quite a few years back, in another place, I did the funeral of a very shrewd old person. They'd been widowed for many years and lived alone in a tidy little house with a well-kept garden and flowers in the window. Everything was just as it should be until the family came into the scene. There were a few children (we'll make the number three and call them A, B and C). A was a professional person who lived a fair distance away from home. The second child (B) had a job in a local shop, and the third (C) had never worked because of a variety of problems with health and habits.
A and B were there and were really helpful, gave me the information I needed to know and understand their dead parent and everything looked like it usually does when one of them mentioned C. Now there was a bit of conflict regarding C and the fact that during the deceased's widowed life C had been a regular visitor 'borrowing' the odd, small, amount of money to support them and their lifestyle. A and B didn't mind, after all it was who C was, but the parent (seeking to be fair) had unbeknown to any of the children kept account books listing whatever money had been 'lent' or given to the three of them. Upon the parent's death, the will stated that the totals sum of each books should be added together and that figure added to the balances of the various accounts held. This was duly done.
The next part of the will then decreed that the total amount should be divided by three and a third each, less what had been 'loaned' by each, should be given to each of the children.
When the arithmetic was done, A and B received a few thousand pounds each. Child C received a few hundred pounds! C had 'gone off on one' and left the family solicitors issuing viles curses, awful expletives and was threatening bloody revenge.
Come the day of the service, A and B were sat at the front during the service whilst C was sat a couple of rows back hemmed in by staff from the undertakers. The service was coming to its end when suddenly C appeared to fly from her seat and in best wrestling fashion, landed on B and 'posted' them on the woodwork in front of the seats. After the fuss had died down, the bloody nosed B given a handkerchief and the screaming and expletive ridden C removed, we continued to the climax of the service and the committal and cremation that followed.
A few days later I was at the crem' when one of the staff asked me to assist them. My service over I agreed and was led into the woods at the rear of the crem' where, sitting in a stream was child C, who was obviously not doing too well (the sound of wailing sort of gave that away) and it soon became clear that C had an empty ashes canister in their hand. We got C out and calmed down and put them into my car (stains never did come out) so I could take them home.
It transpired that C had gone into the crem' office and collected the ashes. Having done so they ran into the woods behind the crem' and emptied the ashes into the stream. So the parent wasn't to be scattered with their partner after all, they were on their was to the sea side (or the local fresh water bottling factory?) and because no one from the crem' had witnessed it - no record of their final resting place could be made in the book!
I had to tell A and B and though they were good about it, it was obviously not their first choice of resting place. As for C, I used to see them around the town every now and again, still looking mad and frightening and I assume if I were to go and look, probably still is to this day.
Who says we dog-collars have a boring life?
1 comment:
I came into this thing we call ordained ministry thinking that the hatch/match/despatch bits were a necessary evil - part of the territory, but I quickly found that they are among the most satisfying parts of the job and a real privilege to be involved in.
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