(Fun)eral

[aurelemsrealm]

I must be evil as I constantly wish the suckiest of customers the worst of deaths followed by eternal damnation in Hell. I found the comment in the original post funny, too. So did my wife. My mother always said I had a sadistic sense of humor.

As for funerals, I always thought it would be cool to have my remains shot into space since I'm a big sci-fi fan.

[Nohbody]

Anybody else wondering if this is definitive proof that SC's run in the family??

We need to start funding research to target the SC gene. Phsychologists already have the market cornered on behavioral development, let's go genetic and eradicate any potentiality of it starting there.

The problem is that you get into the whole "nature vs nurture" thing, and that subject is just begging for a headache.

(It may well be both, too...)

[DGoddessChardonnay]

Erm, did you mean AFTER a funeral?

I do agree that drinking is probably a bad idea when you're already upset, so yeah, during right after a funeral isn't the best idea. Except if there's a memorial dinner afterwards, in which case a toast to the deceased's memory would certainly not be out of order (though i think that'd be better done with a fine wine rather than beer).

Depends on the family of the deceased . . .

Years ago (around 1997) my Mom and I were working for a family whose patriarch was bedridden (he had a series of mini-strokes that left him paralyzed on his left side) and blind (complications of diabetes.)

This family lived in one of the more upscale and older neighborhoods (their home was on the fairway of a local country club golf course) and this family enjoyed having dinner parties, which of course included an open bar. Most of the people who came by managed to control their liquor pretty well (younger daughter was an exception - she could be quite open about anything and everything . . .)

Anyways . . . the patriarch died that summer (pnuemonia complications after yet another stroke) and the family and friends gathered at the home the evening before the funeral (he died on Monday night, the funeral was scheduled for that Friday so that the family could have time to get here from out of state.)

And of course it was an open bar . . . plenty of food (we couldn't fit all the food between the kitchen and dining room - some of it went downstairs in the humongous family room with the double fireplace and pool table,) laughter, diverse conversations and plenty of stories from both of the Patriarch's brothers about him as a younger boy years ago . . . the Patriarch was known for having a good time and enjoyed being the life of the party . . . dancing, dinner and drinks and a good smoke. So this was a most appropriate send-off for him. I think I got home after 11:30 that night (between helping Mom with kitchen duty, spending time with everyone, and Younger Daughter needing moral support - not to mention the fact that every time I turned around somebody was putting a fresh glass of wine in my hand, I was wiped out.) I woke up the next morning still in my clothes from the night before . . .

Same the next afternoon after the funeral, only slightly more subdued . . well, if you can call drinking in the afternoon subdued. We get to the house, leave our car and drive younger daughter's van to the funeral (we had the sisters-in-law with us and oldest graddaughter's then b/f - now her hubby - so it was a full house.) The memorial service was brief . . . about half an hour and very nicely done (collages were made up and set up w/the urn showing Patriarch with his family, a couple of photos of him and his wife when they were first married in the 50's and him enjoying the golf greens, etc) and then we headed back to the home to help with the after-funeral gathering.

Mom was asked to bring the urn back to the house . . . so, seeing as she had taken care of him for almost the last 2 years he was alive, she accepted. The fun part, however, was after we had gotten the flowers and collages and stuff loaded up in the back of the van. . .

Mom didn't feel right about putting the urn in the back seat, as she was afraid they'd get hit on the way home and the back door would fly up and the urn would go flying out the back and Patriarch would be scattered all over the road. So she asked all of us which one of us would hold onto the urn for the trip home.

Not me, said me. Same was said by both SIL's and the graddaughter's b/f . . .okay, then. Mom decided instead to put the urn down on the front flooboard between her legs for the trip home.

The rest of the family heard about it as soon as we hit the driveway and both the wife and daughters came out to actually see this. Everybody broke loose to laughing their ases off . . . but then it was the last time Patriarch got to get between somebody's legs . . .

Even funnier was late that night when we got a phone call from Matriarch . . . younger daughter was sitting in the living room floor with her daddy's urn - top opened - and she was playing with the ashes. Luckily everyone else had already left the house by this time . . .so Mom went back over there to help get the mess cleaned up and get daughter into bed to sleep off the wine . . .

Anything went in this family . . . and it did. I think they put the 'fun' in funeral.

[Salted Grump]

Depends on the family of the deceased . . .

[Really Big Snip here]

Anything went in this family . . . and it did. I think they put the 'fun' in funeral.

Sounds a lot like how we sent off my grandmother in early '06. We expected about 30 people, and got closer to 600 (out of a town of just under 3K people). So, My brothers and I shrugged, and broke out the barbeque (Which was a 400-gallon Oil tank that had been split lengthwise about 20 years ago, and used for cooking large animals, such as whole sheep or half-cows)

We cooked a 700-pound steer on that BBQ, everyone got a toast of Glenlivet (12 year old variety) and we all sat around the place and reminisced. Needless to say, nobody got much sleep, and everyone enjoyed the meal of Beef, salad, and various amounts of Alcohol.