The Funeral

I was asked to be a pallbearer at the wake of a family friend, Peg. She was 82, a lifelong friend of my grandmother, and an adopted aunt to my father and his brothers. I called into work Monday to attend the funeral.

We met at the funeral home Monday morning, said final goodbyes, and carried the casket to the hearse for the ride to the church. When we got to the church we carried the casket down the aisle to the altar. It had been raining all morning.

The service was very nice, the priest had known Peg for ten years, and offered some comforting memories, and my uncle gave a wonderful eulogy.

On the way from the church to the cemetery I rode with two of my brothers and my sister. We started talking about the arrangements we’d want each other to make for us at our funeral. “If I die, make sure…” My brother insisted, no matter the cause of his death, we tell everyone he was mauled by a bear. I asked for an F-14 flyover the cemetery at the conclusion of the graveside prayer ceremony, because that would be awesome. Then it got a little funny. Someone suggested a tape recorder in the casket playing bear growls during the wake, or a pre-recorded greeting for everybody who comes to pay their respects: “Hey! Good to see you, thanks for coming!” My brother suggested writing a few eulogies beforehand for different causes of death, then selecting the appropriate one when he dies. Car crash, mauled by a bear, skydiving accident, fall off a cliff, and so on. I finally decided on a grave stone shaped like a keg, with the inscription “Death should be a celebration.”

Funerals, in my family, are a celebration. I’ve been to my share, and the saddest, and most tragic of deaths is a young life cut short, but an old life, like Peg’s, when that life ends, we celebrate relationships, accomplishments, and family.

At the conclusion of the prayers at the grave it stopped raining. Close friends and family went to the Radisson hotel small ballroom for a reception, where a lovely buffet was prepared, and too few tables were set up. We were the last to arrive, having taken a wrong turn off the highway, and were simultaneously the group closest to the buffet, and the only group without a table, silverware, napkins or anything. Not letting any of that stop us we helped ourselves to the food and ate with our fingers until the waitstaff set up two tables for us in the foyer, next to the grand piano under the two curved staircases. We had a blast, laughing, eating, and drinking. My cousin and I finished two bottles of wine while we were there. It was as good a funeral as I’ve been too. It’s always easier to celebrate a long life of happiness and generosity. That’s a real party.

After the long ride home, (and a little time to sober up), my sister and I went out to meet another cousin for a movie and to hang out. It was a great day. Better than cutting class, or staying home sick, it was a day hanging out with the family having a good time. I took one important realization from the day:

When going to a funeral is more fun than going to work, then it’s time for a new job.

-t


recommended downloads:
Flogging Molly, May The Living Be Dead At Our Wake
The Pogues, Bury Me At Sea