Funerals are so symbolic they have a prescribed rhythm and solemnity that sets them apart from practically every other function we carry out in life. Only in death do we formalise to such an extent. Floating around in the background someone has died and we wish to show our respects in this final display of parting, but in the performance the main character gets left behind, subordinated to a bit part by the professionals. Their large shiny black cars, the coffin decked out with flowers, the sombre faces attendants, the top hatted master of ceremonies walking in a majestic manner ahead of the hearse, his staff of authority swinging like a metronome before him. The slow ponderous journey through the busy streets lights burning on each vehicle to mark the corsage and the special status it demanded. No car never mind the urgency of work will overtake, no car will butt in at an intersection everyone draws back and acknowledges this journey as special. Today the crematorium is fast becoming the most sort-after way of delivering the end rite. Societies functional clearing up process, as we come to the end of our usefulness is efficient, our remains are simply ashes like those at the end of a barbecue to be spread on the garden. No calling back the spirit of the deceased, their memory suffused in the drinks at the party afterwards, as we get on with the business of living !!
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