h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I went to a humanist funeral this afternoon: I generally avoid funerals because I find them quite harrowing and unpleasant but I was asked to support a mate, as it was his best mate being buried and he didn't want to face it alone.

It was a humanist ceremony and for the first time ever, I found myself thinking "This is what I want when I go". There was some lovely soothing stuff about how hurts will heal and how grief is both the proof and the price you pay for real love. The volunteer from the British Humanist Association who was delivering the ceremony then read out a poem which has really stuck with me: it was about reading a headstone on the grave, seeing the date of birth and the date of death and the dash separating them, and looking at what that dash meant, the life it abbreviated. She then talked about the story of this persons dash: she'd chatted the friends and family of the deceased and delivered it as a narrative with some people standing up and giving their own anecdotes.

It sounds quite cheesy, but it was actually really affecting and warm, the volunteer had clearly spent a substantial amount of time talking with the bereaved and knew the story very well: it didn't seem like she was doing something by rote, with just the names changed, as it has felt like at other funerals I've been to. It was really personal and comforting, encouraging people to think good memories of the guy who died.

The atmosphere as it ended was quite telling: it was sombre and there were people crying (naturally) but there was an undertone of laughter and happiness. It helped that it took place in a bright, spacious room and the windows looked out across the river to the hills beyond (I do love living in Yorkshire).

I'm not quite as angrily anti-religion as I used to be, but the humanist nature of the ceremony meant I could relate to it a lot better. It was much more honest: there were no false promises that the dead person 'was in a better place' or mendacious allusions to a merciful god, instead there was honest talk about how the grief would hurt but it would pass and that by holding fast to others, you can keep the darkness at bay.

I barely knew the guy who died - he was an occasional drinking buddy - so maybe it'd be different for a proper mourner but I found it really comforting. For the first time ever, I found a funeral to be helpful.

I'm glad you found it helpful. That's definitely my kind of funeral. If I recall correctly the xtian type funerals I've been to didn't touch me at all. I only found myself grieving somewhat after the fact.

If you are a Christian, and have attended throughout your life, those kinds of services will probably be healing, because it's all about the ritual. But for the majority of us who aren't frequent church goers, we don't have that sense of ritual to help us.

My grandfather had a Humanist funeral and it was a helpful one. I also discovered that he really did love jazz, and in particular off-the-wall kinds of jazz, a lot more than I thought.

When my grandmother died, the only part of the funeral service that followed which found at all moving or relevant was when my Dad talked about the memories of her he'd been collecting from his sisters and their families.

It was the only part of the service that was about the person I remembered and had lost - everything else was about Jesus and walk with me through the shadow of death and chanting and urrgh.

On poetry I find A.E Houseman's poem ""From far, from eve and morning..." quiet well chimes with my beliefs.


From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.

Now---for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart---
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.

Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.

when my dad died we had a humanist ceremony. The volunteer came to visit us a few times and chatted about my dad, and from looking around the living room, and from the other parts of the house she had seen she was able to ask questions about his hobbies and other things we may have left out.

After that we had a long email exchange and at all times she either made suggestions of things that other people have done, if we seemed to be floundering, or said "oh that's a good idea" when we made other suggestions.

In the end we were all crying, lauging and remembering and it was great to see just how many people wanted to say something. His daft mates did a bit of a pop quiz about his likes and dislikes, and got out their guitars and sang a song.

I also liked the suggestion of a collection which raised a surprising amount and we divided it between 2 organisations he supported in his life.

Definitely the kind of thing I'd plan for myself.

but then - I've always believed that funerals are for the living.

I've been to Catholic and to JW funerals. So far, all the JW ones have been conducted by someone who actually knew the deceased. They begin and end with theology, but have quite a lot of personality in between. (Usually, the person conducting the service is quite aware that there are non-JW friends and family members in attendance.)

The theology is comforting if you believe it, but distracting (even perhaps angering) if you don't. At least in the case of the Witness funerals I've been too, it was actually reflecting the beliefs of the deceased, and that's okay with me.

TRiG.