The father of a marching band member (bandmate of my son) died recently. I’d known the man to speak to at the games, chatted every other fall Friday for the past 2 years. oddly enough, last August, I happened to meet the man’s sister, BJ. BJ and I have a mutual friend, and when BJ needed a ride to an event 80 miles away, our mutual friend hooked us up to share transportation. As we rode along, we chatted, and discovered that I knew her brother, small world.
Well, I’m at the funeral, talking to the widow, expressing sympathy etc. I see BJ and go over to speak with her. I give her a big hug (I’m not generally a grab ya and hug ya kind of gal, but under the circumstances…). And start talking about how I’m sad to see her under these circumstances, etc. Several minutes go by before I realize.
This is NOT BJ.
Not only THAT, but it is the shit-for-brains assistant principal of the middle school my son went to - the same person that I complained to the central adminsistration about, demanding (and succeeding) in getting her removed from my son’s case! (trust me, there was a long list of stuff which doesn’t need to be gotten into here)
There is a very, very short list of people I loathe. She’s near the top of that list. And I HUGGED her. ack!!!
I’d only met BJ the one time, a month ago, and most of the time we were in a car, side by side. I haven’t seen SFB Ass. Prin. in 3 years, and she’s changed her hair style and dammit looks ALOT like BJ How dare she??? God. I HUGGED her!!! Ick. Ick. ICK!
Okay. Calm down. Deep breath.
Now, go shower. Use a luffa.
Spray yourself down with something that smells good but contains a lot of alcohol. Cologne, perhaps. Stay away from others until the smell has dissipated somewhat.
Drink a good, strong espresso. Chase it with a pint of stout.
Within two hours, you should feel alllllllll cleansed.
My father died last summer. At the funeral, one of my cousins remarked TO MY MOTHER that my father probably died because he MISSED THE FAMILY DOG (that had died a month earlier). Talk about tactless!!!
My husband’s grandfather died on our honeymoon after a long bout with cancer. We had to cut our trip short and go to the funeral in Sesser, IL. (Sesser, Illinois - America’s Armpit!). The guy who did the funeral had meet Mr.Ramsey maybe twice & didn’t know a thing about him. He started his boring, generic eulogy and I realized he sounded just like Shatner! What… Can… We… beassuredofabout… eternal… life
I could not stop giggling, it was torture.
and echidnasarf you’re not alone, some asshole at my grandfather’s funeral said to my face that he (my grandfather) killed himself because I had quit the family business 4 years before. Yeah that’s it, genius. All my fault
About two years ago, two people who were really well known in the community got in a wreck with a train and both died. It was his 22nd birthday on the day he died.
Anyway, it was early september, and still really hot. I was at the funeral of the girlfriend, and the minister was dragging on and on and on and on, with people coming up to sing, many Bible passages, more singing, and dozens of people coming up to talk about her. Well, I was really tired, and the air conditioning felt oh so good after being outside in the heat, and it was dragging on for soo long… I fell asleep. Thank God a friend woke me up before I started snoring.
My great-grandmother passed on at the wonderful age of 101. She was a pillar of the community and everyone knew her. She had lived in this little town for her whole life. Had numerous jobs and children there. (Read: Big Family). To accomodate all the people that had known her and wanted to pay their last respects, the funeral was held in a gymnasium and visitation lasted for four days. The place was shoulder to shoulder all four days.
It was not a mourning of her death, but a celebration of her life. I find this very inspiring indeed and thought you all might as well.
When my grandfather died in the early spring of 1978 we (his four grandsons) were asked to be pallbearers. The funeral was held in the mountains of VA and there was a mixture of slushy snow, wet ground, and general muck leading from the entrance to the cemetary to the gravesite. I take my spot behind my brother and as we walk I step on the back of his shoe and he steps completely out if it. He now has to continue to walk through this glop with only one shoe on. He is slipping and sliding, I’m trying not to laugh. Grandaddy would have loved it.
I have (well, I had) a slew of elderly great-aunts and uncles. They were all about the same age, and maybe 10, 12 years ago a bunch of them died rather close together-- which is why I can’t remember which one this story is about.
Anyway, my mom is in the limo procession heading to the funeral home. Someone in the car with her said something silly and they both got the giggles. And, it being a funeral where uncontrollable giggling is of course not appropriate, they couldn’t stop. By the time they pulled up at the home, my mom was laughing so hard she was in tears. The funeral director opens her door and helps her out; she’s trying to stifle the giggles so he thinks she’s sobbing her heart out over dear departed Auntie. Her only choice at this point is to let him go on thinking that, because he’s patting her arm and murmuring standard consolation murmurs. Meanwhile, her dad (who was also in the car) is glaring at her, and made it quite clear later that he was not at all amused.
Then there was the time half of my dad’s mom’s procession got lost on the way to the cemetery, and the hearse nearly got pulled over for speeding…
I’m reminded of the Chuckles the Clown episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show. “A little song, a little dance, a little selzter in your pants…” said in that deep, basso voice that only Ted Knight could muster.
One of my very close friend’s father dies last year. I was told by one of my mutual friends that I had to hg him for at least 30 seconds at the funeral. The command inspired me. I do not hug anyone except for my husband. I never feel comfortable. After the gravesite ceremony everyone started to mingle and talk and console. I went up to my friend Brian and I hugged him. I then whispered in his ear “Leah says I have to hug you for 30 seconds, can you see your watch?” he chuckled and said he could. We stayed in an embrace giggling for 30 seconds. He still brings that up and laughs about it. he never thought he could get me in a hug!
When my dad died two years ago, someone in the family printed up one of those little pamphlets that they have at funerals. On the cover was a B&W scanned picture of dad. Typical stuff. Dad was buried at sea, so there was no funeral; but we did have a memorial a few months later at a relative’s house. After most of the guests left, the “real” pamphlets came out. These had a colour photo of dad, back to the camera, sticking his butt out, and turned a little so we could see it’s him. He’s standing next to a DEAD END sign! He would’ve loved it.
I was a member of the Brooks AFB Honor Guard from '92-'96. What we did most often were Color Guards and funerals. During a funeral, you have 6 people who act as pall bearers and 7 who fire the 21-gun salute. We usually do this at government cemetaries, but occasionally, we would perform this service at a private cemetary.
After it had rained the night before, we were acting as pall bearers and setting the casket onto the platform above the grave - this is differnt from govt cemetaries where there was a separate pavilion away from the actually gravesite to do this. As we set the casket down, the person across from me suddenly dropped. I mean, she was there then she was gone. It took me a second to realize she had slipped into the grave!!!
Some of the family there laughed a little at this, but as Honor Guard members there to perform a very saerious task, we could not break our formation or our military bearing - no smiling and sure as hell no laughing. We had to leave her there for the duration of the funeral. Meanwhile, I’m trying not to laugh while thinking things like if I was down there, I’d be knocking on the coffin saying, “I’m not quite dead yet!” and “I’m feeling better! I’d like to go for a walk.” and “Could someone open the lid, it’s getting stuffy in here!”
So fighting back smiling and laughter, we folding the flag, presented it to the widow, fired the 21 gun salute, then went back and laughed our asses off while waiting for the family to leave so we can go back and retreive Airman Peiplow from the grave.
A year after my father passed, my brother and I travelled to our father’s favorite place in the world to release his ashes(illegally). We said our schpiels, and emptied him out in the water.
Not 3 minutes later, a car pulls up and an old man about 70 gets out of the car, strips naked and jumps in right where my father was laid to rest.
Goes to show that even dead people have a sense of humor, I know my dad loved it!
*I HAVE BEEN SMOKE-FREE FOR:
Five months, five days, 16 hours, 52 minutes and 0 seconds.
6348 cigarettes not smoked, saving $793.51.
Extra life with Drain Bead: 3 weeks, 1 day, 1 hour, 0 minutes.
*“I’m a big Genesis fan.”-David B. (Amen, brother!) **
*I HAVE BEEN SMOKE-FREE FOR:
Five months, five days, 16 hours, 52 minutes and 0 seconds.
6348 cigarettes not smoked, saving $793.51.
Extra life with Drain Bead: 3 weeks, 1 day, 1 hour, 0 minutes.
*“I’m a big Genesis fan.”-David B. (Amen, brother!) **
When my father died, he had been sick a long time and we had almost a month’s notice that nothing else could be done. So many emotions had already been worked through at the time of the funeral. My daughter was 4 1/2 and she was really close with Pa-pa so there was no doubt that she was attending the funeral to say goodbye with the rest of the family. But since we had time to prepare, I had made sure that she had a little woman’s purse filled with things to keep her busy. She took getting ready for the funeral very seriously. I guess she also packed some things of her own idea. At one point, I’m sniffling about whatever was being said at the podium, I hear my sister. I look over and my daughter has put little plastic barettes all across her bangs right on the ends and she’s rolling her eyes way up so that she can see them. Oh, that wasn’t my sister sobbing, that was my sister trying not to burst out into laughter. At that same time my other sister joins in with the giggle and then I get the giggles. Pa-pa would have loved that face too.
When my grandmother died my aunt, for some unkown reason, got the chaplain from the local horse track to do the service. His skills were sub-par but if that had been the worst of it none of us would have been bothered. He talked of the things her children cherished about her like the love she shared with everyone in her kitchen with her cooking. He added that when he went to paradise he wanted to have a Mexican cook just like her.
[slow burn]Grrrr![/slow burn]
Later at the family reception several cousins and I agreed that the chaplain came extremely close to having his badly beaten, burnt and unidentifiable corpse ending up in a dumpster behind the funeral home.
[Homer asleep at funeral]
“Change the channel, Marge…”
[/Homer asleep at funeral]
That’s our Homer!
My family went to the funeral of a family friend when I was about fourteen. There was a pipe organ in the church, and after one of the hymns, the valve on one of the pipes got stuck open. This one note continued to sound through the rest of the service. My sister and I were snorting and giggling as quietly as possible, I swear.
