Funerals - One Mortal's View

Funerals - One Mortal's View

Funerals aren’t fun, but they can sure be funny.

Before I get going, this piece is in no way meant as any disrespect for the dead, only as disrespect for the living, for those who visit the dead and attend funerals. There, got the disclaimer out of the way so I can get on with the piece.

The last funeral I attended was about 10 years ago. At that funeral, as all the others, someone always says something like, “Doesn’t he look good?” Well, no ma’am, he looks dead.

Or how about this comment, “He’s never looked better.” Well, sir, yes he has looked better. Remember when he used to move around, and talk, and breathe? Now that was lookin’ good. Movement -- that means life, and that’s lookin’ good.

“He’s in a better place now.” Well, possibly, ma’am, but who are you to judge that? And, by the way, you didn’t know him the way I did, but, then again, who am I to judge such things either? And, by the way, he may just be 6 feet under, and I'd hardly call that a better place than his regular spot at the VFW bar.

The comment that ". . . Well, at least he's not suffering anymore," is based on an indefensible assumption that he went to that nice place called heaven. If he went the other way, then he'd surely disagree with that comment about not suffering.

Then there are the helpful types who ask, “Is there anything I can do? Just let me know and I’ll be there for you.” Right then and there, as she asks, you are carrying a platter of sandwiches and the helpful lady makes no attempt to help you with it, even though it is heavily laden with sandwiches. She does lighten the load, however, by taking one. Funny how later, when you really need help, someone to listen to or someone to help you figure out the insurance forms and the social security forms, those help offerors are nowhere around. Busy with their own lives now that they have “paid their respects.”

Let’s not forget the nosy ones who want to know who was left how much and under what circumstances. Or the morbid ones who want to know every detail of the death. Or the few, the fortunately few, who use this opportunity to remind you of your own approach to death’s door and to remind you that they can arrange to have you “saved.”

After the ordeal is over, a few loyal friends, real friends, help clean up the mess and offer their comfort.

I can hardly wait until I die so that I can be told “how good I look,” or how I’ve "never looked better.” I certainly never get those comments now.

Funerals aren’t fun, but they can sure be funny.