Grant me my final moment

Picture: Twitter

Picture: Twitter

I made my friends pinkie-swear: They will not leave me in the car at my own funeral. I demand to take centre stage one final time.

Believe it or not, but I really do enjoy a good funeral. Not because I’m morbid or have an unhealthy obsession with death – I think – but because a good funeral is one way to firstly celebrate a life that is no more, and secondly to get closure with a grand last hurrah. At my age – I’ve been around for more than half a century – I’ve participated in my fair share of final farewells. So, I do speak from experience when I say every funeral is unique. Possibly as unique as the person being saluted. And they often produce a lighter moment despite the grief. I remember once at a family member’s funeral the coffin was rolled into church accompanied by a thunderous cacophony produced by an over-zealous organist. Then, out of the blue came a question from a child obviously experiencing the reality of death for the first time: “Dad, dad, what’s in the box?!” I’m sure uncle Joe was giggling inside that very box. At another funeral where I was tasked with performing pallbearing duties, the dearly departed must have taken all his earthly possessions with him, or he was buried in a lead-lined coffin....


 


 


 

today in print