It is a little known fact that an essential part of an undertaker’s equipment is a big black umbrella, which, when it is pouring rain (not unusual) at a graveside he or she holds it over the celebrant while the burial takes place.

After one such funeral in a November drizzle at Janefield Cemetery in the east end of Glasgow, as they made their way back to the cars, the undertaker shoogled the rain from his big black umbrella and said to the minister who was about to leave for a 3 year spell in Jamaica, “Well, you’ll no be needing this for a while!”

When a few weeks later the minister was conducting his first funeral in Kingston, as he stepped from his car, immediately across came the undertaker unfurling an identical big black umbrella to shelter the minister from the blazing Caribbean sun.

To this day that minister swears that somehow it was the same big black umbrella!

A minister was asked to conduct the funeral of a man, aged 65, Harry by name, the last two years of whose life had been spent in the increasingly unequal struggle against cancer, and who, for the most part of these two years, had been nursed at home gently and devotedly by his wife Jean.

In preparation for the funeral the minister spent an evening chatting to the new widow, getting from her a flavour of their 47 years of married life. She told the story of a teenage romance; how when they married he was only 19 years old. He was an apprentice in the shipyards, she was just a messenger girl. Married life began in a room and kitchen in her in-laws house. They lost one son as a little child, but their other son had thrived and grown and prospered and given her and her husband the joy of being grandparents.

She told how her husband had loved his work (he worked in the shipyards all his days), he loved the camaraderie; he had been a good trades unionist. He enjoyed the simple pleasures of a pint, a wee flutter on a Saturday and going to the game with his mates. In his later years he loved watching the snooker on the telly. Most of all, she said, though he was no saint, none of us are, he was a good man and a good father. They told me I was daft getting married at 17, but they were wrong, I’d do it all over again if I got the chance.

Harry’s funeral took place on a Saturday morning and was one of these ‘good funerals’, thanksgiving was genuine and the dignity and worth of the deceased was evident to all.

After the funeral service Jean asked the minister if he was taking his boy to the match that afternoon. He said no, he couldn’t because he had a wedding to conduct at 3 o’clock. “A wedding,” she said with a sigh, “Aw, that’s nice.” Then after seeming to think about it for a while she said, “Would you tell the bride that I wish her all the best, and tell her if she’s as lucky as me, she’ll be all right.”

At the wedding service the minister told the young bride of the old widow’s wishes for her. The bride cried and afterwards said that she couldn’t imagine a nicer greeting on her wedding day. She then asked the minister if he would take her bouquet after the wedding up to the widow.

This the minister was delighted to do. Then it was Jean’s turn to shed a tear of joy. The bride and the widow, joined together in the shared joy of love. Even though they never met, they made each other’s day.

There have been radical changes in funeral customs in Dundee, and indeed most of urban Scotland over the past 50 years. Some are very welcome, others, perhaps, less so.
Customs that have been largely lost:

• 50 years ago it was the accepted norm to bring the deceased ‘home’ until the funeral service
• It was the custom to have a minister or priest say a prayer in the house with the immediate family, or to have a church service before proceeding to the burial or cremation
• There was no such thing as a printed order of service
• ‘Mourning’ clothes were worn. Black was almost obligatory
• Only the minister or priest spoke
• Music was sombre and singing was limited to Psalms or Hymns
• Where it was a burial, it was men only at the graveside
• The ‘reception’ after the funeral was more often than not back at the deceased’s home
• The food (or purvey as it was known) was usually provided by friends and neighbours
• There was an obligatory wee whiskey for the men and a sherry for the women. Irn Bru for the children

Customs that have come into practice.

• The deceased lies in an undertaker’s viewing room until the funeral
• Undertakers today have service rooms where often there is a ceremony before moving to the crematorium or cemetery
• There is usually a printed order of service with a photo of the deceased
• Often people are invited to wear bright clothes
• The tone is likely to be one of celebration and secular music is often played – eg something that had been a favourite of the deceased. A Burns’ song like ‘A man’s a man for a’ that’ might be sung
• Often a eulogy or remembrance is spoken by a member or a friend of the family
• Whether a cremation or a burial, women attend
• A collection is usually taken for a charity like Cancer Research or something that was dear to the deceased
• The ‘reception’ is usually in a local hotel or clubbie

We would stress that the funeral of your loved one is a very personal thing and can be the mix of old and new customs that are right for you and your family. These are among the things that the staff at Funeral Link will be happy to offer guidance.