The last Goodbye

We said the last "Goodbye" yesterday to B and J.

It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny as we stood outside the chapel at the crematorium waiting for the cortege. Seeing two hearses draw up and park side by side was unbearably sad.

The service was perfect - their son and daughter did them proud.

I've been to a lot of funerals, but never one like this - a double cremation service held under Covid restrictions.

A maximum of 30 people, all socially distanced, everyone masked, recorded music only and no singing. There was a live webcast for those who weren't 'allowed' to attend.

The ritual surrounding funerals is important, not just for the deceased, but more so for the living. It's a tried and tested formula, a necessary step on a bereavement journey, which must always include the usual get-together afterwards. 

Eating and drinking together is absolutely integral to this ritual - something life-affirming in a time of death - providing a moment when everyone can draw breath and gain comfort from the group. The food is generally awful but it doesn't matter - that's not the point. It's not about the quality of the food; it's anecdotes and reminiscences, "Do you remember when...?" and funny little stories, all passed round along with the tea and sandwiches.  

But none of that was allowed. 

After the service the 30 attendees got back into their cars at the crem and drove home. 

That was it. 

I can only think the rules surrounding funerals at this time were dreamt up by a bunch of heartless civil servants who don't know what it's like to have a family or loved ones... or a brain cell between them. 

I'd like to see them and their petty 'jobsworth' rules consigned to the Eighth Circle of Hell. 

It's all they deserve.