At the age of fifteen I
had to take part in my school's two week work experience placement. I changed my mind weekly between wanting to be a vet
or a palaeontologist at this stage of my life and neither of those were options for work experience. I
considered the whole thing to be a waste of time. My exasperated work
experience coordinator had a suggestion; 'how about the funeral directors?' I
screwed up my face, but there wasn't
much choice left at this point with most positions already having been filled. I decided, having watched a couple of episodes of Six Feet Under, that it might be an interesting option. If nothing else
I was intrigued. I penned a letter of interest to the
manager and subsequently went for a talk with him. As a result of my complete ignorance about what the job involved, I talked at length about how much I liked flowers and the idea of flower arranging. I still remember him telling me I might have been better placed with a florist.
Looking back it is a wonder I got the placement.
On the first day I turned up wearing inappropriately casual clothing. I hadn't expected to be on a funeral on my first day but I was; I still remember trying to keep a low profile in the Church, observing proceedings dressed in ill fitting black trousers (I had no smart attire of my own, these belonged to my mum) and a woolly Kangol fleece. Over the two weeks that followed I gained an insight into the funeral profession that made me feel it was the only job I wanted to do. I pursued getting work in this field with dedication and heartfelt interest, resulting in a career that spanned ten years. As I write this, I have just ended my time as a funeral director.
It is a field of work that is rewarding, challenging, interesting, competitive and highly variable. It has led me to some of the most compassionate, friendly souls that I have ever had the privilege to meet who give so much of themselves into their work. They undoubtedly make the most difficult times in people's lives that little bit easier by being so helpful and kind. It has also shown me some of the most egotistical characters; wearing smart suits and a top hat whilst walking in front of huge, expensive, highly polished vehicles seems to do that to some people (but thankfully, there are considerably fewer of these). I have been amazed by human nature in the midst of grief and it has been a privilege helping every family with their unique needs. That said, I have changed a great deal since my introduction to the funeral world and everything began pointing me in the direction of change.
Being tasked with arranging a service for someone ten years older than me provoked a great deal of thought. I asked myself: Is this what you want for the next ten years? Or even for the next year? The answer, with certainty, was no. I brought to mind a quote I had read on the company's desk calendar a while back. It said words to the effect of 'In a year's time you will look back and wish you had started the journey today'. I am a sucker for quotes and that one stuck in my head. I had recently started listening to a podcast by The Minimalists; two likeable, inspiring guys who had six figure salaries supporting expensive lifestyles but, in spite of all that, were not happy. They have since adopted a meaningful life with less, shunning material possessions and wealth for the real things that matter, which you can interpret from their talks as people, conscious living and experiences (among many other things). I had just listened to a podcast about work in which they talked about the danger of the term 'secure' in relation to jobs. They discussed the issue that very few things in life are really, truly secure and the price for security can be very high. It is easy to stick with the familiar and comfortable, but this too often means we stagnate and stop growing just to avoid the risks associated with change. Colleagues who I confided in about my thoughts of leaving told me of the benefits of being in a secure job. Two of the many associated costs to my well being at that time were not wanting to get out of bed in the morning and worrying to the extent that I felt like I couldn't breathe. I spoke with a friend, telling him about advice I had received regarding working simply to save money for the future. He wisely said that doing things for the benefit of the future shouldn't come at the expense of enjoying the present. Everything came together in my mind. I knew it was time for change and I had saved enough to afford me the opportunity to leave.
So, I've hung up my top hat. It has always been a bit too small for me, painfully pinching the right side of my forehead on every funeral I ever conducted. The last few times I looked at myself in the mirror whilst wearing it, it suddenly seemed not to fit me at all, in any way whatsoever.
What I do know is that I want time. Time to take deep breaths of sea air, to walk barefoot on sand, to listen to birds in quiet woodland. Time to think and to clear my mind in equal measure, to prioritise and give my energy to things that really matter, to find a new, meaningful way to earn my keep. Time to listen to audiobooks, to meditate, to volunteer, to learn. Time to connect more with nature, animals and people. Time for everything to be more light-hearted for awhile. I have a commitment to planning my days to revolve around these things, not leaving it to chance at risk of just lounging inactively around the house. If ten years working in close proximity with death has taught me anything about life it it this; our time can be short or long, we often have little control over that, but time is the most precious thing we have and we shouldn't waste it.
'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us'
Gandalf (J.R.R. Tolkien)
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