#2: Maintain Stable Frame of Mind

Ah, this one again. I'm still solid (and so not lying) but those around me not so much.

I know a funeral is not supposed to be a comical event, but my experience yesterday was definitely not all tears and sorrow.

I was nervous about seeing my Grandma for the first time since Grandpa's passing, but was pleasantly surprised at her composure. My sister and I drove her to the funeral home, and in the car she casually announced that my Aunt told her she looked like Johnny Cash in her funeral garb. Maybe you had to be there, but hysterical. She sorta did in that black suit--the image of her falling into a burning Ring of Fire was certainly enough to lighten the mood.

Once at the funeral home it was a procession of many relatives and friends I knew, and many I didn't depsite being family. A diagram of a family tree might have been helpful. Maybe we should talk to one another more often. Many of us recognized each another from the rows of pictures my Grandparents keep in the entry way to their home. I can't tell you how many times I heard "you look just like your picture", or "I've watched you grow up through the year's on your Grandmother's shelf". Most conversations began, "yes, I recognize you from the pictures". At least we had that level of connection.

Before the funeral, my sister remarked she was excited to see Crazy Aunt Carol. I never met this woman, but knew it was her the minute she walked in. A strikingly beautiful woman, but with a high top knit hat hiding what I am sure was a Carole Kane (you know, the farily in Scrooged?) head of crazy long gray hair. A word on attire--another aunt showed up looking like a homeless person (no joke) but she is bi-polar so I suppose it's be excused. I asked my father later why everyone thought Carol was crazy--beyond the obvious--and he told me she accused her neighbors of stealing her cats and replacing them with new ones. She also walked from Phillipsburg to Easton one day--if you know anything about the area, it's not a short jaunt. When asked how she became crazy the answer was "tuna fish". May want to limit your tuna sandwich intake.

The service was conducted by a Catholic Priest--with a very heavy hispanic accent. Had my Grandpa been at his own funeral, he would have been asking "WHAT?!" the entire time, which I found amusing to think about. Not to mention, he hated going to church but did it to please my Irish-Catholic Grandmother. When she was asked what denomination he was by the funeral director, her reply, less the excessive explanation, was "he's Catholic but doesn't want to be".

At the cemetary, as the Pall Bearers took out the casket, my uncle casually remarked to the group of them, "ok guys, this is heavy and I'm gonna need your help this time.". Ah, humor.

All was followed by a lovely lunch at a place actually owned by our family and known for hosting Funeral "after parties"...as well as weddings and family reunions. Imagine that. As a result, we are know having a family reunion this summer. Go figure.

The lesson learned is humor can certainly help us cope and keep us from losing our minds. In which case my life is hysterical right now.