I was, until recently, under some major misapprehensions regarding funerals. I thought it was a time for family and friends to come together and share their grief, thereby lessening it. I was completely wrong. For time and expediency’s sake, I will only share a few of the things I saw. Besides, you’d never believe the rest.
Day 1: My brother in law passes at Stanford Hospital, 5:30pm. My SIL calls me, completely incoherent, begging me to come get her. I tell my husband what has happened, we go over to his mom’s, tell her. I go to get SIL. On my way out the door, my mother in law says “Make sure you get his wallet…he has two of my credit cards.” I stop, think to myself, no, she’s distraught. She didn’t know what just came out of her mouth. Keep going to hospital.
Day 2: Actually a continuation of day 1, as I have been fielding phone calls. The phone has not stopped ringing ALL NIGHT LONG, and I am trying to give my husband, SIL, and MIL as much time as possible to digest what has happened. I ask (around 10ish am) about arrangements. Mistake. SIL says “He wanted his organs to be donated and…” Got no further, as MIL snaps “How do YOU know what HE wanted? Your whole marriage was about you!” Sharp intakes of breath all around. Significant looks exchanged with Mr. Maureen, who firmly but quietly leads MIL to a bedroom, where he finally gets her to lay down to rest. SIL, looking quite shaken and very white, says to me: “Please, I can’t do this alone. You’re the good daughter in law. Just find out what she wants and I’ll tell you what I want. You can call whoever; I’m going to bed.” Maureen spends day making arrangements, setting up flights for Mr. Maureen’s daughters to come from out of state, sets up agreement with funeral home to retrieve deceased, etc. Finally get Mr. Maureen home, give him sedative (it was his brother, why am I the only one to recognize that he’s grieving too?)
Day 3: Funeral Home. Two of BIL’s oldest children are there, both of whom are in the service, flew considerable distances, and are quite tired & quite upset. While waiting for Funeral Director, MIL tells Jr. “You can come stay with me. Since your father is gone, there’s really no reason to be over at THAT house.” (I can’t get over how angry this woman is…really, it’s not her. It’s someone else. I know, she’s angry with herself, she lost a son, she wasnt there, but GOD!! This is just not her.) Jr., who has had to sign his life away, do all kinds of things that 22 is way too young for, and just wants it all to go away, says “Grandma, you need to be nice to Lynne. She loved dad very much, and it isn’t her fault.” The ensuing is just way too painful for me to put into writing. It was long, it was ugly, leave it at that.
Day 4: The viewing. Immediate family only. End of the viewing. SIL has gone back into the room. Funeral Director explains they need to prepare BIL (he’s being cremated), and they also have another viewing they need to get ready for. I go in, and she’s humming something, head down on BIL’s shoulder, arms around him, eyes closed. Breaking my heart. I tell her “Honey, it’s time to go.” She says “No. I’m staying here. If I stay here, he’ll wake up in a little bit, and we’ll walk out of here.” Heart shatters, I’m crying. “I know, honey, but we have to say goodbye, now.” SIL takes deep breath, tells BIL she loves him, and she’ll see him later. We walk away. Go back to her place, leave her w/Mr. Maureen so I can pick daughters up from airport. Mr. Maureen is better when he sees his girls. Thank goodness, 'cause he needs something to help him get through this, and I feel guilty about not doing it as well as I should. Continue to answer flippin phone which will not stop ringing.
Day 5: Funeral day. Forgot to mention, took SIL last night to mall, as she doesn’t have a dress for funeral. Told her not to worry, we’d find something. So, we find about 5 dresses, she tries all of them on. Says to me “Mo, it isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to go to Macy’s to buy a dress for your husband’s funeral.” Sounds nonsensical now, but I know exactly what she meant. We are both tempted to buy the hoochie-mama dress, because we can both hear BIL say “That one, babe. I love it. Wear it.” But go with the conservative matron thing, 'cause we can hear MIL’s reaction to said hoochie-mama dress. So anyway. Funeral. Husband refusing to go, because he said goodbye at the viewing and just can’t do it. Hold Mr. Maureen for about 1/2 hour, nowhere near long enough. Remind him his mom needs him today (dirty pool, but I don’t have time to play fair.) On way to funeral, First Born Male Child relieves EVERYONE’S tension by recounting how Uncle Mike was the best at making Tacos. My boy. Mind and stomach are one. And so everyone says yeah, his tacos were killer, and we laugh. Thank god, we finally laugh.
Much has happened since, some of it not so nice. Family Politics continue. But I see now that all those cliches, “hold on to each other,” “laughter through tears,” “together we can make it through anything,” became cliches for a reason. They’re true.
Funerals on my father’s side of the family were always very strange growing up. I’m actually relieved to be the shunned sheep noir because I am no longer welcome at these fiascos. You can always vent with us here or in ‘living vicariously through the davebear’ 
And my email is always there too!