Perfectly Imperfect

The Native American Indian Navajo are deeply religious and they believe nothing is perfect except for the Gods. In the 17th century, their Pueblo ancestors taught the Navajo to weave imperfections into their blankets and rugs as a testimony to their weaving skill and to show that nothing in life is perfect.

I am often asked how to make a loved one's funeral service and celebration of life perfect and the motivation is completely understandable. Yet my heart feels perfectionism is the killer of joy, so I always answer gently. We can make careful plans, and make every effort to ensure all goes smoothly on the day. We can add all the thoughtful and loving touches we can but in the end, sometimes, things can go a bit eskew.

As the congregation were taking their seats, our team stepped back after placing the coffin on the catafalque. One member of our team silently stepped forward and re-arranged the roses. There were no labels on the collection of colourful roses, but she remembered who they came from, as she arranged them in family groups on each side of the coffin, placing the red rose from the lady's husband on top. She dropped her head and stood back in line, without drawing attention to herself.

I stood in the petrol station queue waiting to pay and there was a lady with a little boy in front. I am guessing he was about four years old, dressed in a school uniform with a head full of tousled curls. His Granny had bought him a little Kinder Surprise Chocolate Egg and he had started to unwrap it. Granny looked down and quietly said, 'Wait a bit, my love, we need to eat lunch first.' This little laddie smiled at her, carefully smoothed out the torn pieces of delicate foil and placed these back across his treat. The energy of his concentration, patience and loving attention to detail paused the world as I stood and watched him.

So many details go unnoticed because they are silent.

After a service, the funeral director was putting together a memory box to gift the family, as loved ones and friends gathered to chat afterwards. She asked one of our team to pick a flower from the spray that decorated the coffin. It was the same lady who had silently re-arranged the roses a few days before, and she returned with four different flowers. Our funeral director silently took them and wove them into an arrangement at the bottom of the box. These two women are kindred spirits and their thoughtful energy shines when they are together.

There are times when I stumble on a word during a service. Sometimes it is appropriate to apologise and start the sentence again, at others it is best to carry on and pick up the loving flow again. On the way home I mentally berate myself for making a mistake, as there is no chance to turn back time and do it again and I pray it is not one of the memories that loved ones carry with them from the day. I am working at this on both fronts of not stumbling and not berating.

A lovely lady stood as we all prepared to enter the chapel for her husband's funeral, and she dropped her head. Our funeral director reassured her, as this dear lady noticed she'd come out in odd shoes. As we chatted afterwards, she explained that she'd put a pair on at home, changed her mind and then got distracted as she only had one of her new pair on. We reassured her that no one would have noticed and she'd carried it off with her customary style and grace.

Love will make the memories and these are the things that remain. Life is messy and perfectly imperfect. We are all doing our best, and that is how I gently reassure loved ones.

Perfect is an illusion and it is loving energy that will be felt and it is loving energy that stays.