We skipped the church service and turned up at the crem for the committal. The music was Bridge Over Troubled Water. The parson gave us a bit of a psalm- which was bracing, then followed it with a sentimental poem- which wasn't.
In the sentimental poem, the dead person was addressing us. I forget the content. The comfort was in the conceit that she was still in a position to speak. Gah! So why didn't she do it in person?
How broken-backed our religion has become. It has nothing to say about death. It has old words enshrining doctrines that no-one believes any more (or wouldn't if they thought about it) and new words that are merely whimsical.
Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must talk bollocks.
We can do better than this.