Call the Midlife (12 page)

The more I listen to Dave eulogize and explain the intricate vagaries surrounding the history of funerals, the more I realize they are very much a subject of glacial evolution as opposed to much needed revolution. Indeed, much of the development of the way we say goodbye to our loved ones has been born out of necessity, like funeral directing itself, as Dave explains:

‘Funeral directing can actually be traced back to the Co-op joinery industry. Carpenters were asked to make coffins but then no one knew what to do next, hence the joinery profession saw a business opportunity and thus became the founders of our profession as we know it today.’

Well I’ll be, it’s as simple as that. I don’t know why I’m surprised – necessity the mother of invention yet again, as it so often is. And bearing in mind that last year the Co-op’s funeral division turned over £347 million, some business it’s become. So does Dave have a crystal ball as to where funerals can go from here?

‘Well, yes, I travel the world looking at how other countries and cultures are developing their burial methods and ceremonies. One advancement in particular that interests me is the disposal process, known as resumation or alkaline hydrolysis, to give it its technical name.

‘That’s how I think I’d like my remains to be dealt with. Far more efficient and environmentally friendly. It’s a process different from cremation but one that also results in the creation of ashes. Ashes as we know being very important to loved ones who then take them and spread them somewhere significant to the deceased. This is such a huge boon when it comes to helping people achieve closure.
I’ve no idea why specifically, but that’s not the point. All that matters is they feel better for having achieved a more palpable goodbye.’

How good at his job is this guy?

As we continue to talk I feel like I can ask Dave anything and he won’t be offended as he is sure to have already considered it. Besides which it’s not my intention to be offensive, I just want to know more.

And so what about children and their exposure or, maybe more importantly, their lack of exposure to funerals and the scar that it can have on them for life, as I sense it has with me?

This is a subject that really sets Dave alight:

‘What adults don’t understand is that children are brilliant at learning and dealing with change – far more than we are. And far, far more than we give them credit for. I always say to people, if they think their kiddies can cope with a funeral and all that goes with it, they should definitely go and see what all the fuss is about.

‘Children see things very black and white compared to older people. It’s their job to learn and they are experts at it. Adults shouldn’t let their own narrow-mindedness infect what in my experience usually turns out to be a hugely positive thing for a child to witness.’

Whoa!

This sentiment doesn’t so much resonate with me as chime deafeningly inside my head. My dad was ill for a very long time and basically died at home. The kind of long, slow, miserable, painful and degrading death you might not wish on your worst enemy. My mum thought I’d suffered enough, so suggested I stayed at home when it was time.

Yet here I was remonstrating at how rubbish we are dealing with death and I still hadn’t done anything about talking to my mum about how she might like her funeral to be. I asked Dave for his advice where my own situation was concerned.

‘Chris, from what you’ve told me your mum has had more than her fair share of health issues over the last ten years and in many ways you may have left it a bit late. Indeed, it’s always going to be
awkward to approach someone else about their funeral. What we need to be doing is leading by example for the benefit of future generations. We need to talk about our own funerals first and then perhaps other people might feel more comfortable about bringing up the prospect of their own.’

Again what Dave says makes complete and utter sense. I have missed the suitable window of opportunity for a creative and lighthearted funereal discussion with my mum by about, oh let’s see – a good
fifteen to twenty-five years
.

If I were to suddenly bring up the subject with her now, who could blame her for thinking it sounded like I had concluded her existence was dragging on a bit and it was time to call last orders.

‘Sometimes you just have to accept that the moment has passed, even if the person in question has not,’ says Dave.

Hilarious. He is so brilliantly pragmatic about everything.

‘Like most problems, it’s never about what you initially think. If we track the source of the issue right back to where it all starts to unravel, it’s down to all of us to take the bull by the horns and bring up the subject of our own demise and departing so no one else has to.’

Our kids and grandkids need to be taught to do this by the generations who are going to die before they are; teaching from behind it’s sometimes referred to as, or leading by example if you’d rather. So that means, ladies and gentlemen, that the next quantum shift in how to make dying easier is wholeheartedly and unreservedly down to us.

No longer can we justify crouching in the corner in the pathetic hope that death’s creeping shadow won’t notice we are there and will pass us by. Death is going to come, regardless of how much we quake and quiver and pray for it not to. No matter how many drugs they invent, no matter how many other planets become inhabitable, no matter how much we meditate for it not to.

No longer can we shirk the responsibility of the inevitable by claiming the ignorance of our forefathers. We are the most blessed species ever to have the gift of life bestowed upon us. It’s time we
accepted that life’s specialness comes from only one thing: the fact that it is temporary.

We need to talk about dying much more than we do. And much much more than we ever have done.

Just discussing the research and writing of this chapter with friends and family brought about a collective sigh of relief, release, reflection and eventual merciless mickey-taking and rib-tickling.

Within half a bottle of wine it had become abundantly apparent that there was no point whatsoever in living under a cloak of fear with regard to the subject of our own passing. Like learning to swim, it’s best not to wait until you’re drowning to begin.

Why aren’t kids taught about dying at school? Surely it’s more relevant to life than improper fractions or the periodic table. Not only would such conversation open their eyes to appreciating and making the most of more elderly folks around them, but it would provide a huge fillip to help them realize what a marvellous thing it is to be alive in the first place.

‘That’s a lovely idea, Christoff, but in reality it would be cruel and upset them beyond what their little hearts need to experience at such a tender and vulnerable age!’ I can hear the protesters whimpering already.

Well, bollocks to anyone who holds that point of view. I fundamentally disagree. My dad died and it broke my heart. But not going to his funeral twisted the knife, a feeling that has stayed with me to this day.

My funeral hero Dave agrees.

When he let slip over dinner one night that one of the new items that’s come to market is the novelty coffin wrap, where one can choose to have photos or various images emblazoned on the coffin, his youngest, Kitty, who was nine at the time, couldn’t wait to volunteer what she’d go for.

‘I’d like the Tardis option, Daddy,’ said Kitty, because she loves
Doctor Who
. ‘That would be so cool!’

And with that from Kitty, I feel empowered to be able to move on.

You see, funerals can be cool. It’s official. Kitty and her fantastic dad say so.

Top Ten Initial Funeral Changes We Might Want to Think About:

And seriously, why all the black?

‘It’s to show respect.’

NO NO NO.

All it does is scare the kids and make them never want to go to a funeral again.

My mum suggested it was far better for me not to go to my dad’s funeral because it would be too sad and make me too upset.

MY DAD HAD JUST DIED – I COULDN’T POSSIBLY BE ANY MORE UPSET.

Not that I’m saying my mum did the wrong thing. More that funerals, and the way they have almost always been, brainwashed my mum into thinking she was doing the right thing.

There is no doubt in my mind that this is where a lot of the psychological nonsense and fear of dying begins.

‘But, Mummy, everyone was so sad and miserable. Lots of grown-ups were crying, which scares me anyway because when grown-ups cry they must be really scared. And then there was this weird part where after crying for about an hour or maybe more,
everyone went quiet for a bit, then had a few drinks before they all started laughing as if it was New Year’s Eve all of a sudden. IT WAS REALLY CONFUSING!!!’

You’re not kidding, sweetheart.

It’s confusing for us adults too, we just don’t like to admit it.

So is there any hope on the horizon? Any light amongst all that dark?

If you google ‘wedding planner’ the phrases that come up are joyous and celebratory, not so much to do with the weddings they plan but with the services they offer, e.g.: ‘Sarah Haywood is a British luxury wedding planner, internationally renowned for her exclusive and prestigious clients.’

Wow!

‘An amazing and unforgettable wedding made easy and affordable.’

Phew!

‘The greatest day of your lives deserves the greatest service we can offer.’

Bravo!

Now compare this to the searches that come up when you input ‘funeral planner’:

‘Cover the cost of your funeral now.’

Oh joy!

‘A pre-paid plan will bring peace of mind to you and your loved ones.’

What a hoot!

‘The perfect prayers, poems and service created with sympathy and sensitivity.’

Yawn – but oh, hang on a moment, what’s this:

‘The Funeral Planner. Bringing life to a dead business.’

Oh no, hold your horses. It’s a movie, not an actual company. But the writers of the film should start the business for real. They’d make a mint. In fact, I might just do that. The Funeral Party Planner – Evans on Earth. This could be the big one.

I can hear the voice-over for my TV ad already:

‘I didn’t like the way funerals were going so I changed mine and now you can change yours.’

I can just see myself being interviewed by Lorraine Kelly.

‘And now, please welcome Britain’s first-ever billionaire King of the Casket – Chriiiis Evaaaaans!’

I’m dreamin’ the funeral dream, baby. People have to die, it’s in the rules. It’s time we woke up to the fact and someone wrote a
Fifty Shades of Black – Stuff That, I Don’t Think So
to show us the way.

There are so many positives to saying goodbye to our loved ones and barely any of them are being realized. There needs to be a mass reassessment of what it means to die, both for the deceased and those ‘left behind’.

Phrases like ‘left behind’ do no one any favours. Getting ‘left behind’ is what happens to us when we miss the coach after a boozy day at the seaside. I’m actually quite glad I keep getting ‘left behind’ at funerals, it means I’m still alive. Just when exactly did misleading macabre messages such as this get signed off en masse?

I wonder if Esther Rantzen is available to revive her fabulous smash-hit show of the Seventies and Eighties,
That’s Life!
– but for a one-off special called
That’s Death
. Similarly, perhaps Michael Aspel is up for a few one-offs of
This Is Your Death
as opposed to
This Is Your Life
.

Anything to help break down the taboo of death being all too . . . deathly.

Religion

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