Burying Friends
Two weeks ago, my supervisor came by my work area at the large funeral home and cemetery where I work as a Celebrant. I have been serving families by writing funerals and officiating ceremonies for interment for the past decade. This was a typical Monday morning, stumbling through coffee and emails. The look on his face clearly showed that this was not a casual visit. There was news weighing on him. He said, shakily, “There is no way to say this other than to just tell you that Jennifer died this past weekend. We don’t have any details yet, but we wanted to let everyone know.”
What? Wait….Jennifer is a dear friend, as well as co-worker. I knew she had not been at work for a few days. I knew she wasn’t feeling well. We already had plans to take homemade soup by her home sometime today or tomorrow. Now, no need. She died at home, alone…only her aged dog and a cat with her. Several of her office coworkers AND her dad had been checking on her, and trying to get her to go to the hospital, but…she had refused.
Our funeral home staff, from the CEO to the grounds crew, have spent the last week in a state of shock. She was only 47. Yes, we deal with grieving families all the time. Yes, we have grief resources to refer grieving families to. We have a library of Grief Resources and lots of referral information. Why do we think this helps those in the moment of the shock of a death?
Naturally I assumed her family would have a service for her in the small rural community about a half hour from our workplace, using their minister. Later that day, in early afternoon, my supervisor called me and said that Jennifer had left some instructions in pre-planning, and had asked that if I was available, that I officiate her Celebration of Life service.
I was stunned. I was at the end of ten years of being a Certified Celebrant. I had just completed what I thought would be my last service. I had decided to end my time of being a Celebrant because I recognized that my “Grief Quotient” was at the FULL mark, and well beyond that. I had buried too many Grandmas, Grandpas, Uncles, Aunts, Moms, Dads and Children. Each family I had met with had given me the unique honor to taking the story of their loved one and weaving it into a service that would honor their life. I had become overwhelmed with mourning “the friend I never got to have”, and only learned of through studying their life and story through their family.
The next ten days were spent in preparation, and meeting with her family. Her siblings all lived on the coast, whereas we are in the middle of the country. Jennifer’s parents were from a very devout small Mennonite community, whereas her sisters and her brother recognized that Jennifer had moved beyond those early childhood teachings. I knew this as well from the many conversations Jennifer and I had over lunches and breaks. She was also the trusted house sitter and pet sitter for my own home, as well as for several other of her coworkers.
Fortunate for me to be also working with a younger coworker who is also a Certified Celebrant, and he agreed to help me with the service. Her family had delayed for a week or so and we had adequate time to prepare. But how do you prepare to tell the story of a good friend’s life? How do you honor them without your own emotion overtaking your feelings and rendering you into a puddle and unable to get through the service? How do you conquer your own waves of grief?
My husband, who has been my rock during the years I have been a Celebrant has always said this to me when grief would overcome me when preparing a service. He would wisely say “This is not your grief, this is their grief. Your job is to help them during such a hard time. Snap out of it, and help them cope with their hard time in life.” But this time, it was my grief as well.
I called my mentor who helped me through my first years of being a Celebrant. I knew she had been called on to do the service for a very dear coworker in the past, and I asked her how she could not only write the service but officiate it as well. She thoughtfully said, “I thought to myself that officiating her service was a final gift I could give to my good friend, and since we were good friends, who else could honor her as well as I could?”
That very good advice helped me not only prepare for the service but to get through the hour of music, memories, and stories of our good friend Jennifer, as well as including a nod to her Mennonite upbringing and her parents’ beliefs for their comfort. I did make it through the service, thanks to the strong and excellent help from my co-celebrant, and the sage advice of a good friend and mentor. Now I could get through my grieving and adjustment to the loss of such a good, kind, humble friend. How fortunate I am in life to have the friends I have.
How ironic that my final service as a Certified Celebrant, those ten years of doing Celebrations of Life services every week, would culminate in the request to honor a much-loved friend. Safe travels in your continuing journey of the soul, Jennifer. You were well-loved.
