My extended family has a hard time keeping a straight face during funerals. I don’t know if it’s nerves or a general lack of respect for death but we can’t seem to make it through a single funeral without violently shaking in quiet laughter; only an occasional snort escaping from wads of tissue.
Years ago we attended a funeral where several people arrived late. At the end of the service they wanted to view the deceased, but rather than having them walk to the front of the little country church, the gentlemen from the funeral home opted to wheel the open casket to the back.
The slightly inclined aisle was narrow and bumpy and we all watched aghast as the body bounced up and down in the casket. When the absurdity of the situation hit me I prayed that no one would notice I was trembling with laughter, not tears.
The following weekend we held my grandfather’s funeral. I was sitting behind my dad and his siblings when I realized their shoulders were shaking.
“What?” I whispered.
Dad replied, “We were just thinking how much your grandpa loved cars and if they wheeled him to the back of the funeral home he would love it!”
I snorted at the thought of my grandpa being proud to have all his friends seeing him “drive” around in his Cadillac of caskets. Of course he was a Chrysler man, so I guess he would prefer to have it called the New Yorker of caskets. It was nice, either way you look at it.
That evening we were discussing it with my grandmother. Amused at the thought of each of us choosing the casket we would like to “drive” around the funeral home, someone suggested that Aunt Pat’s would be called a Patty Wagon. Once again we burst into gales of laughter. When Aunt Pat passes into eternity, more than one of us will recall that her casket is a paddy wagon. Snicker, snicker.
A few years later at my mother’s closed casket funeral, we were at it again. My sister and I were a little surprised at one of the musical selections and she whispered to me, “If we opened that casket right now, Mom would be spinning!” We convulsed into giggles, much to the chagrin of those behind us.
A short time later we memorialized my uncle. He had a Bulls’ jersey draped over his casket, and was buried with an eight ball in his hand. Snicker, snicker.
Genealogy is a passion of mine. I love connecting with long lost relatives and distant cousins. A few years ago I located a third cousin. She was searching for information on her great-grandfather, my great-great uncle. I’d had the privilege of knowing him throughout my childhood and even had some pictures I was able to share with her.
Over the years we’ve become good friends and share our lives beyond our ancestry. So, when her grandmother, my grandpa’s first cousin, passed away I naturally went to the funeral. I’d never met that branch of the family and I watched closely, looking for some resemblance, some little indication that we were indeed descended from the same family line.
When the funeral came to an end, I paid my respects and stood outside, waiting for a moment to speak with my cousin. When she appeared I offered my condolences and stood with her while waiting for the casket to be deposited into the hearse.
Suddenly, her very distinguished father appeared at a small window, right next to the door through which they were bringing the casket. He stood there, smiling at us while we waved and motioned for him to hurry and come outside. But no matter how much we cajoled he just continued to stand peering through the lace curtains and smiling. Finally, after waving like idiots for about a minute, my cousin said, “Oh, my gosh. Is he going to the bathroom?”
Sure enough, the restroom was oddly located and he had no choice but to stand there staring out the window at everyone while he heeded nature’s call. My cousin and her mom burst into laughter and it was then that I saw the family resemblance. Tear stained faces, puffy red eyes, and laughter. Laughing while grandma was being wheeled out of the funeral home in her Cadillac of caskets. Laughter in the midst of grief. Ah, yes. This branch of the family isn’t so distant after all.
I hope my family can laugh at my funeral. And I hope I have a burgundy casket with a plush pink interior. Prop me up in it and wheel me all over town. It’ll probably be the nicest vehicle I ever own. Snicker, snicker.
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