First Burial of Ashes

I assisted at my first burial of ashes last week - an unexpectedly thought-provoking occasion as the deceased was a trans woman. She had been one of the oldest people in the UK to transition through surgery in her seventies, and she had remained married to her wife who had been a faithful and supportive companion throughout the process. Her widow was present at the graveside and she seemed so kind and warm. Together the couple had had two children, both of whom were also there, along with a young grandson looking very earnest and smart in a shirt and tie.

The lady's transition journey had provoked mixed reactions in this family, some responding comfortably, others struggling - but it didn't stop them coming together for the occasion and they seemed a lovely, united family as they huddled together with their arms round each other under umbrellas. It was a huge privilege to stand there in the midst of this family which had worked through this process together, and to offer prayers for a very brave trans woman who had decided not to give up on being her authentic self even in the later years of her life. 

It struck me that in conversations about human sexuality and gender we can hold so many stereotypical assumptions often based on what we have encountered in the media or anecdotal accounts. But here was a "normal" family (excuse the use of this word, by it I mean they had no engagement by what it means to be woke or progressive or trans-affirming) just trying to love and support and come to terms with a dad becoming a mum, a husband becoming a wife. And they were so gracious, speaking openly about the journey they had all been on, accepting in death her choice of name and pronoun and dress just as they had done in life. 

As always in this job, I was struck by the working of God's spirit in ordinary people doing things with extraordinary love. 

Yesterday I led another Burial of Ashes service but this time on my own. As for so many families, the funeral had been a tiny affair during lockdown, so they used the ashes services as an opportunity to gather a few more people who couldn't be at the first memorial. Some of the family members had even traveled over from Spain and during the time of reflection some poems in Spanish (a particularly lovely one by 'Santa Teresa') were read out, through unexpected tears. It was deeply moving and beautiful. 

However, there was pastoral complication which I won't reflect on here out of respect for the family's privacy, but it was an issue we were still emailing back and forth about on the morning of the service. I am learning just how complex people's lives and relationships are, and how all this complexity comes tumbling out at times of grief. 

Indeed I was advised by a local undertaker that very often, after a funeral, a family will associate you (the vicar or funeral director) with their loss and may even cross the road to avoid you when they see you again. I think I understand that better now, after leading my first burial of ashes and having been alongside people at a time of such emotional rawness and vulnerability. I see why I might end up signifying something they are not ready to unexpectedly revisit. It is feeling like a huge honour to be given entry to these areas of people's lives, even for just a short time. 

Next week: baptism classes!