So, I'm at livestreaming at a funeral in the midst of summer, and it's visual tribute time.
The visual tribute is a slideshow with photos from the person's life. It usually happens after communion, and before the final blessings over the coffin.
The video plays through, and that's fine. People watch, enjoy the memories, remember the deceased, to the sound of gentle, lilting music.
And then it starts playing again. It's on a loop.
I know when the video starts and ends; other people don't. It's just beginning to dawn on them, "Hang on. Have I seen this picture before?"
I glance over to the priest, sitting in the pews to the side of the altar area, and he looks... a little too comfortable. The summer heat, the gentle, lilting music, it was all too much for him.
There's two things I realise in that moment. The first is that, unless something happens, we're all going to be stuck in this church for much longer than we'd like. The second thing is that maybe I'm the only one in the church who can do something.
So, I nervously, quickly, determinedly walk over there.
"Father?" Nothing.
"Father, excuse me?" Nothing.
I touch his arm. He startles awake.
"Sorry Father. The visual tribute is finished. It's playing on a loop."
He gives me a look that I interpret as "quietly annoyed" (no reason to blame me, but you've got to put your frustrations somewhere), and then he stands up, smooths out his robe, and heads to the lectern.
The music stops. The final blessings commence. And the slideshow ends -- for real this time.
