Favourite funerals

In My Humble Opinion
21

I don’t think it’s weird to have a favourite funeral. You celebrate someone’s life, you share in your sadness, you share stories of the good times. It can be good.

My Grandpa’s funeral was nice. We made it really eco, as he would’ve wanted. It was in a church very special to us, one I’d made a documentary about that he really liked. I read one of his poems, about the first snow of winter at nightfall. One we both loved.

So many people came! Afterwards we all went to get drunk, and I talked to so many of his friends. There were a few I’d never met, and of course new stories were told of my Grandpa in his naughty days. It was lovely to hear from so many people who had cared about him, and everyone knew him in their own way. Everyone had their own version of him, their own stories that they were so happy to share with me. It was all old men telling me: “Did your grandfather ever tell you about the time we…”

It was his time when he died, and I was lucky to have my Grandpa for so long, and to know that I made him proud. I got to ask him about so much, and he had so much advice for me. When he died, it was ok. The last thing he said to my Granny was: “Darling, I’ve put a glass of wine for you on the riverbank.” We put that in the programme, because it’s so him.

Everything was just right. It was a celebration of his life, and we all shared how much we would miss him, even with people we had never met. He would’ve liked it himself. That was my favourite funeral. :slight_smile:

22

My first thought was “You’re crazy”, but as I thought about it, it’s possible.

We’ve all been to the funerals of older relatives, a friend of friends, or co-workers. Folks we hardly knew, but were compelled to attend for various reasons. You stand there looking somber, you offer condolences, then maybe there’s some punch and cookies or pie at someone’s house you don’t know.

Then I remembered my cousin. Well, my mom’s cousin, technically. We had met a time or three throughout my life at various family gatherings. He was about 20 years older than me.

When we moved to Atlanta I was 18. My mom told me Clay lived here, and I should go visit him and get to know him better. Oh, and he’s gay and lives with a man. :eek:

I had never met a gay person that I knew of. Yeah, my female gym teacher was pretty obvious, and she was cool, so what the hell.

Long story short, I became very close with Clay and Roger and Roger’s female friend from work, Allison. They lived in Midtown Atlanta, our version of the Castro district, and I would go have dinner with them every Friday or Saturday night for years. They introduced me to fine dining, jazz clubs, piano bars, and the indescribable party that is Halloween in a gay community. I introduced them to shooting, concerts in Chastain Ampitheater, (all the way up THERE?) flying, and more things from my world.

They opened my eyes to a great many things, and treated me as an equal instead of some kid to endure for family’s sake. We had a lot of good times together, and when he died, it was only the second funeral I attended of anyone really close to me.

It was in south Georgia, and we all stayed in one hotel. Us younger folks gathered in one room, and eventually had about a dozen or more folks sitting around drinking and telling stories. We laughed and cried and laughed until about 5 in the morning with everyone spilling secrets and anecdotes until the front desk called and told us to quiet down.

I’ve never been to a good Irish wake, but I think that night was pretty close. Remembering the good, the silly, and the poignant, and having a good laugh about it all.

I suppose that’s as good as a funeral can get, all things considered.

23

  1. Dunno if it’s weird.

  2. Nixon’s. Didn’t see it. It’s my favorite for certainty, not ceremony. Of course, Dick Cheney is still alive, so the final results can’t really be tallied.

24

The fifty-foot free buffet.

25

My first thought was Gram Theft Parsons :cool:

26

My uncle’s was pretty cool. He was a total blue collar guy and of course so were all his friends. Kind of like a biker without a bike. They came and cried and sang “Why Me Lord” by Kris Kristofferson, and brought tons of beer to drink in the basement of the funeral home. The funeral director was a bit flaberghasted (it was an old school ethnic family funeral home) and my brother had to help ease the situation.

And of course he was buried with a can of Gennessee.

27

I wish I’d been in New Orleans to see “Uncle Lionel” Batisteget sent off. The deceased was propped up in his Treme Brass Band attire for the wake, then sat on top of the coffin during the procession, with wires moving his arms as he played the drums for one last jazz funeral.

28

My grandparents’ funerals. They all lived to ripe old ages, and the receptions following their funerals were occasions for much storytelling and family camaraderie.

29

I posted that pic on Facebook when it happened. Classic. A denizen of my favorite New Orleans bar passed away this summer, and it was touching to see the whole bar throw a party and host a second line in his honor. Often, if you were known by the bar, and you pass away, they’ll put your favorite drink in front of an empty seat in memoriam.

My mom’s was pretty touching in that family and friends showed up from all over the country. The church was packed and it demonstrated how many people she touched in life.

I buried a close friend last summer, and it was a plain funeral, but he had a custom coffin that another friend built for him, and the eulogies were pretty cool. People told the good and bad, not in a vindictive way, but in a way where everyone nodded, thinking “yeah, that’s Mark.” In life, one can be an asshole and a best friend, and the stories were hilarious.

30

I should have mentioned: My sister and her husband happened to be in New Orleans and saw the procession for Uncle Lionel. One lady in the second line kept screaming “He dead! Uncle Lionel dead! Oh, dis ain’t right, put him in de box! Uncle Lionel don’t belong up deah, put him in de box!”

Yep, when I go, I wanna go Nawlins style.

31

That’s what I want at my funeral, someone screaming “put him in de box.”

32

My aunts. I was probably late teens. My mom knew the funeral director, they grew up together. Waiting for everyone to come outside, get in their cars & form the procession they are catching up when he laments that it’s a long ride to the ceremony & he doesn’t have anyone to drive with. I got to ride front seat in the hearse. A couple of times, he looked at me & asked if we should start the procession thru a stale green light.

33

Only been to one funeral in my whole life. Some friend of my grandparents. It was boring.

My paternal grandfather did not have a funeral, but did have a nice memorial service, but he didn’t even want that. Well, he was dead, and our family did it anyway. It was kinda weird seeing everyone so weepy. I think that’s possibly the only time I ever saw my dad cry, other than once or twice before, if even then.

I’d love to picket Fred Phelp’s funeral someday. That will probably be my favorite, if I can <3

34

My grandfather’s, hands down. He was very well-connected, so there were hundreds of people there. He was also one of the funniest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Each of his four children and most of his grandchildren spoke, and we sent him off in a style that befit his life. No one expected to laugh so hard at a funeral. But everyone knew what kind of man my grandfather was, so it worked beautifully. I have been to several funerals since, and I confess I get a little judgmental.

35

Bring me with you.

36

I don’t know about favorite, but part of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s funeral service was public, and hearing Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt, and Stevie Wonder leading the crowd in singing “Amazing Grace” was pretty moving. On the other hand, it was 100° out and I was wearing a suit since I had come over from work, so it was also pretty miserable.

37

Has anyone ever been to a funeral where you’re gloating the bastard’s dead? Not to sound cold, but it seems to me that would be the best of funerals.

38

Buddy Rich’s manager gets a phone call, asking to book Buddy.

“Buddy Rich died last week, I’m sorry to inform you.”

An hour later, another call, wanting to book Buddy. Sounds like the same guy.

“Buddy died last week.”

Another hour, same voice, same offer.

“Look, man, I’ve told you, Buddy Rich is dead. It’s tough enough to deal with it, much less having you call repeatedly and keep bringing it up!”

The caller says, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, but I was in his band last year and it just makes me so happy to hear it.”

39

I had a friend who died of breast cancer. When she was coming towards the end - wheelchair bound, she had her memorial service. She figured that people would want to say goodbye to her while she was still there. It was wonderful and touching. Because she and her husband were so accepting of the death that was to come, everyone was more comfortable with it. Because she was there to plan it, it was indeed what she wanted, not what people were guessing she would have wanted.

When she passed on, she was cremated and there was a very small private ceremony with her immediate family.

It was also a rather strange service, a celebration of a rather strange life

40

I’d rather have someone screaming “Look, he’s moving!”