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caddymanI am not looking forward to morning.
Tomorrow is the funeral, and as Shalewa's line manager I am going along to represent the division. I am also going along to represent myself, because I liked the woman. But I don't know any of her family, and I don't know what one says in these circumstances.
At what point do condolences, however sincere, become intrusion, and where is the dividing line between reserve and standoffishness? How long do I stay before I have outstayed my welcome at a family event, and how do I know that I am leaving disrespectfully early?
What do you say?
I am no good at funerals. I don't do funerals. I have only done three in my life; I avoided each of my paternal grandparents' funerals because I was young and didn't understand. I missed Uncle Des' funeral in January because I had to pack and get the Hell Out Of Dodge a week later, and couldn't spare the time or money to go back to Telford.
I have been to three funerals. Precisely that. One for my Uncle Ted who I'd only got to know in the last three years of his life. I was surrounded by family - my family - I'd never met.
What do you say?
Twenty-five years ago, I went to the funeral of my best friend's father. It was a frosty and cold January morning and I recall thinking how considerate that they'd gone for cremation.
I would rather do just about anything other than attend the funeral tomorrow.
But I liked Shalewa, and her desk is an empty space in the office. So I shall just bite down hard and go.
Tomorrow is the funeral, and as Shalewa's line manager I am going along to represent the division. I am also going along to represent myself, because I liked the woman. But I don't know any of her family, and I don't know what one says in these circumstances.
At what point do condolences, however sincere, become intrusion, and where is the dividing line between reserve and standoffishness? How long do I stay before I have outstayed my welcome at a family event, and how do I know that I am leaving disrespectfully early?
What do you say?
I am no good at funerals. I don't do funerals. I have only done three in my life; I avoided each of my paternal grandparents' funerals because I was young and didn't understand. I missed Uncle Des' funeral in January because I had to pack and get the Hell Out Of Dodge a week later, and couldn't spare the time or money to go back to Telford.
I have been to three funerals. Precisely that. One for my Uncle Ted who I'd only got to know in the last three years of his life. I was surrounded by family - my family - I'd never met.
What do you say?
Twenty-five years ago, I went to the funeral of my best friend's father. It was a frosty and cold January morning and I recall thinking how considerate that they'd gone for cremation.
I would rather do just about anything other than attend the funeral tomorrow.
But I liked Shalewa, and her desk is an empty space in the office. So I shall just bite down hard and go.