Public Health Funerals: Then and Now
by Adrian Bean
In 1875, my illegitimate grandmother was born in a workhouse, a place that truly epitomised the negative undertone of the word “Dickensian.“ They were the choice of last resort for those in society least able to look after themselves, a place where destitute and desperate people were strictly regulated, given meagre food rations and stark accommodation in return for gruelling work, with families being separated in a forbidding prison-like building. Although some in authority saw them as a civilised attempt to help the helpless, they are now generally seen as cruel and heartless.
Although she had a sad life, ending in a Mental Hospital with Dementia (well, that’s the way they dealt with it in the Good Old Days) my grandmother did at least have a respectable funeral, arranged by a loving son, attended by family and friends. Other patients in such circumstances weren’t so lucky, having an embarrassing service with just a couple of staff attending, possibly because the deceased had no known family, or a family that wanted nothing to do with them. They would have a pauper’s funeral, buried with just an impersonal grave marker. They died and were immediately forgotten.
We like to think that in Death everyone is equal, but the world isn’t fair, and there are still people who have a life ending with no known family or friends, having a Public Health Funeral, normally arranged by the Local Authority. No such funerals are held at Foster Hill Road Cemetery nowadays, but nine were carried out last year by the kind staff at Norse Road, who make sure that even if there are no family or other attendees, the deceased is given a respectful and compassionate ending to what might have been a lonely and obscure life.
You might have heard about such funerals, as occasionally a newspaper publicises the story of an old soldier with no family, who has fallen on bad times and will have the equivalent of a Pauper’s Funeral…but then veterans of his regiment step in and make sure the funeral is well attended. But most don’t have such a happy ending. There are many circumstances that can end up with people voluntarily or otherwise disappearing from Society and having no-one to mourn them. They may have been ostracised by their family, or be the last remaining person in their family line.They may be willing recluses, they may have mental or physical health issues, or are perhaps just worn down by the pressures of modern life to the extent that they have given up trying to participate. Their true talents and contributions to the wider world may be forgotten because circumstances have made them simply opt out. Sometimes, an apparent attitude of unreasonableness can make other people shun them, despite having no knowledge of the reasons for their seemingly unpleasant behaviour.
In life, we recognise the kindness of strangers as shown by nurses and doctors, hospice staff, volunteers who help out at soup kitchens and deliver groceries for vulnerable neighbours or who just pop in to have a chat with them. But it’s also possible to show compassion for such people after they die as well as when alive.
I was moved by a recent work of fiction by local author Ruth Hogan who is also the president of The Friends of Foster Hill Road Cemetery. Her book – THE LIGHT A CANDLE SOCIETY is about a man called George McGlory who witnesses a public health funeral and is so touched by the brief and basic ceremony that he gathers together a group of volunteers to celebrate and remember the lives of people who die alone and unmourned, and to make their Public Health Funerals more meaningful. As part of her research for the novel, the author worked closely with the staff at Norse Road Crematorium, going behind the scenes for a number of cremations, and attending and participating in several Public Health Funerals herself.
Just as some funerals can be uplifting and memorable, THE LIGHT A CANDLE SOCIETY, although tackling an apparently depressing topic, makes you glad that the world has such kind-hearted and compassionate people in it. If you’ve never heard of Public Health Funerals, the stories told will open your eyes.
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