14/03/2025
IF YOU NEED A REALLY GOOD LAUGH
I am currently working on a loved one’s service, but while I have a quick break, I wanted, in fact needed to share this funny story that happened to me this week. The family and friends I have told since have absolutely lost it laughing.
As a full-time funeral celebrant, I often see the full range of people's emotions as they are grieving. I see the floods of tears, the stoic silences and the sudden, unexpected bursts of laughter when a memory is shared. But even in my 7th year of being a funeral celebrant nothing prepared me for the Great Bee Bite.
There I was, a picture of serene composure, leading a lovely family through a burial service. I was on my knees on the grass, carefully selecting the roses to hand out to family members for their final moment of farewell. As I was delicately navigating the thorny stems, I felt it. A sharp, stinging sensation, not on my hands, as one might expect, but… well, let us just say it was in a region usually reserved for sitting. Yes, a bee had decided to launch an attack on my bottom.
My inner monologue went from "These roses are so beautiful," to a silent, but very loud, "OH MY GOSH, A BEE IS STABBING MY BUM!"
But being the professional I am, I did what any sane person would do: absolutely nothing. I gritted my teeth, plastered on a smile and continued handing out roses. Meanwhile, my brain was screaming, "I CAN STILL FEEL THE STINGER!”
I managed to keep it together and handed out every last rose, offered a heartfelt condolence, and then, with an almighty run, I made a dash for the nearest cemetery toilet.
The later "operation stinger extraction" was filled with plenty of yelps as I desperately tried to twist around and use a credit card to scrape the stinger out (never squeeze – it just releases more poison!) The moment the stinger came out, I was instantly relieved.
So, please, have a good chuckle at my expense. We all need a laugh, especially when grief feels overwhelming. And remember, even in the most solemn of moments, life has a way of reminding us that we’re all human, vulnerable, and capable of finding humour in the most unexpected places. And truly, in remembering the funny, we remember the person we are there to honour, for all of life, light and dark.
And my family who I was looking after that day, were none the wiser- until perhaps now!