LONDON (AP) – Funeral director Hasina Zaman recently helped a family say goodbye to a young man in his thirties who died of COVID-19, on the same day she was planning a service for a man and woman . virus.
Since the pandemic, Zaman’s phone has rarely stopped ringing, with grieving people seeking help she cannot always provide.
“Every week I think I do not have what it takes,” Zaman said. His company Compassionate Funerals serves a multicultural, multi-faith community in east London. The small firm usually arranges about five funerals a week, but COVID-19 has driven the number as high as 20.
“We’m just doing it,” Zaman said. ‘Literally just a practical approach and go for it and do it. And it is not sustainable. It is definitely not sustainable because it is not healthy. ”
Funeral services are under pressure in many places, but the burden is particularly intense in Britain, where more than 115,000 people have died from the virus, one of the highest deaths per capita in the world. Visitors, embalmers, and others who deal with death for their bread view the pressure on them as less important than the pain experienced by grieving families. But many are exhausted by the enormous amount of deaths they have faced, and the pandemic raises awareness that their own mental health deserves it as well.
Funeral directors across the country describe a heavy burden of more services, stricter hygiene measures and fewer staff due to illness and self-isolation requirements.
Emma Symons, a balm worker at Heritage & Sons Funeral Directors, north-west London, says her workload has tripled.
“Some days it’s relentless and it’s very difficult, especially when we have younger people who have died,” she said. “Sometimes it really gets a little too much.”
Heritage & Sons’ parent company says its group of funeral homes in the south east of England arranges 30% to 50% more funerals than in a typical year. Ben Blunt, a senior funeral director at Heritage & Sons, says the surge this winter – which Britain recorded more than 30,000 coronavirus deaths in January alone – although cases and deaths are now declining – was even worse than the peak last year.
“For the first time, we knew what to expect,” he said. “But after having the experience for the first time and now going through it for the second time, there is the kind of slight fear that we almost know what is at hand.”
Alison Crake was better prepared for the pandemic than most. Before anyone ever heard of COVID-19, she wrote a guide on how to plan a pandemic for the British Funeral Home Association. Crake expected some of the tensions that a pandemic could bring, including the absence of staff, a shortage of mortuary space and the need to purchase extra protective equipment.
But she says that if someone had described the extent of death and disruption, “I would probably have gasped at the thought of it.”
Crake, who runs her family’s funeral home in the north east of England, says the profession has been shaken by shady places of worship, strict restrictions on attending funerals and other restrictions to slow the spread of the virus, which means funeral staff cannot always be sad. do not give. families the comfort they crave.
Talking sensitively with a grieving family about Zoom is a new and delicate skill that funeral directors had to learn. Blunt says it’s painful not to be able to do as simple as shaking a client’s hand.
“We are professionals,” he said. “But we are also people.”
Still, Crake says funeral staff, who often view their profession as a profession, may be reluctant to seek help – although some in the industry are trying to change that. The guide she wrote was updated in October with a greater emphasis on providing emotional support to employees. Those struggling can call Our Frontline, a service set up during the pandemic, funded in part by Prince William and his wife, Catherine’s Royal Foundation, which supports key workers 24 hours a day. Funeral staff were included in this category, along with medics and emergency services staff.
“We understand that this is the profession we have chosen,” Crake said. ‘And for many of us, we see it as a profession. We consider ourselves part of our community and our community is part of us. But it is also necessary to get the balance to make sure that this prolonged exposure to trauma does not lead to fatigue for compassion. ”
Conservative lawmaker John Hayes, who heads a parliamentary group on funerals and mourning, recently paid tribute to the ‘silent dignity’ of funeral workers during the pandemic, saying their vital work ‘often goes unnoticed by those in the corridors of power ‘.
Zaman is concerned about the restrictions on travel and gatherings which means families often cannot mourn together. On a recent weekday, mourners stood outside her salon in the rain, taking turns going in for socially distant prayers over the coffin of a young man who died far from his native Gambia. A speech of praise was delivered on the sidewalk over the rumble of cars and buses.
But she is proud of how the profession has adapted since the first boom of the outbreak. With livestreaming, friends and family can watch funerals from afar. Thanks to training and protective equipment, his Muslim clients can have their loved ones’ bodies washed and enveloped before the funeral, in accordance with Islamic custom.
Zaman says if families can have the connection and catharsis, ‘you feel a sense of accomplishment’ that makes the tension worthwhile.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “For sure. But I look after myself. … I recover. I have ten hours to recover after work and during the night, and then I come here and go on.”
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Kearney reports from Aylesbury and Bletchley, England.