I have only been to one funeral
and that was a cremation, of my uncle, I was 17 and I hated every moment of it.

At the wake I didn't drink (a rarity in itself) and just wanted to get as far away as possible.

Another one of my uncles died about 2 years later, and I was unable to attend, I made up some crap excuse about it being too hard to travel with my girlfriend at the time.

I still hate the idea of attending someones send off, but now I am too old to avoid the important ones. It isn't the idea of the send off, it is just all the people and all the social tiptoeing that is partaken to avoid speaking about anything that is important.

When all that needs to be done, is everyone remember as they were, in most cases a great person.

Sorry it is not amusing
( Neon Blue Ah ha ha haa! I feel positively capital!, Fri 12 May 2006, 7:22, Reply)

Coffins
went out with a girl who worked for a funeral home, and fairly early into the whole dating thing, she told me that since i'm so tall, i should think about starting a fund to pay for my custom coffin, as i won't fit in a standard one.

the relationship didn't last.
(mikewicked, Fri 12 May 2006, 6:29, Reply)

There are four things you need to know:
1. My uncle died in January 2005.
2. He was a drunk.
3. So were most of his friends.
4. We're Polish.

So here we all are in the funeral home in Brooklyn, New York. Everything is very Catholic, and very somber, considering he died of cancer at about age 50 (and because it's a funeral, you sick twunts). The priest, also Polish, is significantly late because it's the time of year he blesses people's houses. By this time, some of my uncle's more impatient but cautiously religious friends have secretly begun to drink the nips of whisky they brought along in their coats. I say "secretly" because my mum is tough, hates drunks, and would bust them in five seconds.

The priest arrives and the prayers begin. Now, I have to applaud the priest. He was fresh off the boat from Krakow but his English grammar isimpeccable. The only problem? His accent. It's thick. Impenetrably thick. Chop-his-voice-with-a-meat-cleaver-but-only-make-it-halfway-through-before-getting-stuck thick. But the drunks sitting in the back don't realise that we are aware of this, and one of them bellows:

"SPEAK ENGLISH!!!"

at the top of his voice.

If her brother hadn't been lying in state in the front of the room, my mother would have ripped the drunk man's bollocks off with her bare hands. And I think the priest would have absolved her on the spot.

My mum's great.
( KersaI Missive Free Michael Shields! with Monday's Liverpool Echo, Fri 12 May 2006, 6:25, Reply)

Never take guns to a funeral
My dad got a full-on naval funeral which was going swimmingly until the rifle volley. It hadn't occured to anyone what the effect of a shitload of SLRs going off might have on 78-year-old grandma's rather nervous disposition (the firing party was standing right behind us).
Cue to a loud BANG! followed by an old lady's totally startled AAAAGH!
I guess it was lucky she didn't keel over there and then but I could swear there was some sort of shitty smell coming off the old girl afterwards.
(mudskipper, Fri 12 May 2006, 6:20, Reply)

FUNeral
Last summer my grandfather died. My mom and I flew back to Michigan for the funeral and wake, all very sad, as he was a very outgoing man. My mom's old Water Safety Instructor decided to come to the wake and bring his son along, as they were pretty close to the family. His son's about my age (18), and was unabashedly checking me out. Nothing like cruising for chicks at a wake.

(although if I saw him again, I'd tap that)
(Luna loves you., Fri 12 May 2006, 4:19, Reply)

cock it.
My grandad died a few years ago. As he was a fabulous old codger his funeral had to be brilliant.
The church was loaded with BRIGHT pink and purple flowers and there were family photos around the coffin in a sort of "TA DAAA!" pose.
This was made even BETTER by the fact that the deceased had left a huge collection of ghastly ties. I wore 2.

Back at his house there was a RIDICULOUS amount of champage and BRILLIANT food. I got appallingly drunk and got a curry as well. Then raced my brother in the old codgers wheelchairs.
It was great. Especially as I nicked a load of his books and he was a big fan of Plato. (and knew how to say "oi! slave bring me some soup!" in ancient greek for some reason).
(you FUCKING *BANG* BANG*BANG* AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!, Fri 12 May 2006, 3:37, Reply)

well, seeing as a lot of people are doing this
I decided a few years ago that, at my funeral, I don't care how my carcass is disposed of as long as I get made into a puppet so that I can be walked (by clowns on stilts) from my place of death to my disposal site.
(you FUCKING *BANG* BANG*BANG* AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!, Fri 12 May 2006, 3:13, Reply)

A selection of hits
- My brother and I got snorty over the limo driver's extremely long face and mopey manner... at my father's funeral. I am so sorry, really I am, put it down to grief coming out in strange ways.

- School friend of mine (school was very long ago for me) was shot dead by her husband. Much weeping and due solemnity. The hymn is announced. Familar tune begins on the sound system... Guns N Roses?! And me without my lighter.

- Thanks to seeing life as a never-ending adventure of learning, as of three weeks ago I now know how to prepare a dead body for burial, from last breath to laying a lily on the mound of earth. (Fact: You must bind the jaw soon after expiry, or the tongue will stick out and you won't be able to get it back in.)

Well you bloody asked, didn't you?
(socialised_medicine quietly returns to Saskatchewan for Lurkfest 2007, Fri 12 May 2006, 3:11, Reply)

Back in 1992...
A friend of mine died in a car accident. The high point of the funeral came when they tried to put her coffin in the ground and found out that the hole was too narrow.

It felt like one of those candid camera moments, but no fat guy showed up to confirm it. Eventually a backhoe was brought in and we all watched as they widened the hole.
( Grampa, Fri 12 May 2006, 3:09, Reply)

My good friend
My good friend Carl is an undertaker, much fun is had by all on nights out when we start making puns about his job "this is a DEAD good night out" etc..childish but oh so funny, to us anyway.

He comes up with loads of stories about some old money grabbing gammer, who refuses to retire. It must be his lifes aim to drop dead doing his job. Where better to do it than in a funeral directors?

Anyway, he once dropped a memorial wreath that they place on top of the coffin down into the pit (i dont know the technical term, if there is one) and he jumped down to collect them but realised he couldnt get out again, so 4 people had to drag him out in the middle of a funeral.

There was the time he crashed the hearse into the one my mate was driving on the way to the cemetary.

He also has a habit of tripping over tiny gravestones and falling flat on his face in the middle of the ceremony because he is as blind as a bat.

He also is as deaf as a twunt and he's the guy who puts the flowers on top of the coffin before its lowered down, he once forgot to put them on so there was an awkward silence as everyone waited for this old fella to put the 'DAD' on top of the coffin. He must have fallen asleep, my mate was whsipering in increasing noise 'Joe, the flowers' he eventually had to shout in the middle of a funeral.

My mate had me in stitches with this...they were preparing a body for the family to look at with flowers around and stuff then one fellow decides to stick a rose down the mans pants as a larf. My mate decides to go one further, takes the rose out of his pants puts it in his mouth and dances the tango around the body. He was then told the deceased had died of some syphillis related or std related illness. My mate was mortified and wouldnt stop washing his mouth out for days. Although now he tells us the 'boys' played a prank on him and he dead guy died of a heart attack.

Ive loads more but i think ive made you bleed enough already with my length.
(PieEater, Fri 12 May 2006, 2:11, Reply)

okay
i can only remember being at two no three
funerals so no biggy.

the first i was way to young for it to phase me what so ever, it was my greatGrandfather, cool guy from what i can remember.

second. okay i understand death and i felt a bit sad but i didn't even know that this woman was alive let alone how she was related to me, so after the funeral i watched "the craft"

now the last funeral i went to i did cry at and i openly admit it.
this time it was my GreatGrandmother, the first guys wife. nice old senile lady i loved her even though she could not remember who the hell i was. but at the funeral i didn't start cryingt ill my father went up to give his speach this killed me of course. i was gone before his first tear hit the ground.
what i did not need was to have to go carry the heavy ass casket. those things are bitches man. so i'm half crying have wimpering from the pain in my left arm.
all in all my sister's then boyfriend is just daft as hell. wondering how we know thing have nutriances..... the guy was a freakin chef.
(EvilHippie, Fri 12 May 2006, 2:10, Reply)

Bleh
I attended my good friend Kev's funeral but the other day. Amusingly, his parents had opted for a religious service, ignoring the massive inverted cross tattooed down his spine. And the Sigil of Baphomet on his chest.

Guess what song they played as his corpse was burnt?

Fucking Alien Ant Farm.

I had 'My Way' playing in my head. The Sid Vicious version, obv..

Bit morbid for a first post, this. Ah well.
( Angry Boss Bee I love horses, death to other animals, Fri 12 May 2006, 1:38, Reply)

The night I became a legend...
Arrived in for the friday night snooker at the local pub to find the top table sitting in silence. Pride of place was the local big man - looking all sad like someone had stolen his chalk. I asked what was up and he looked at me and said, "I buried my granny this morning...".
Oh, say I, was she dead ?
He didn't seem to notice but the room cleared real quick.
(out of his league, Fri 12 May 2006, 1:30, Reply)

again...not one of my own...
in the "awesome" online game World of Warcraft.... this might not have happened but i thought it was funny/weird so here goes...
apparently one of the gamers died(can't remember if it was a bloke or woman), so the thoughtful friends they made online decided to have a funeral for them...online and in the game...a date and time was arranged and people actually queued up(in game remember) to pay their respects.
Until someone decided to "crash" the funeral and attack the other gamers....i never did work out which was worse....online funeral or online funeral crashing

here's the vid if anybody cares to watch:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTfAfcXYIbY&search=world%20of%20warcraft%20funeral

(i should mention i don't know any of the people involved, i just heard about this one day)
(Just Harry What should I put here?, Fri 12 May 2006, 0:56, Reply)

My ex-girlfriend committed suicide from a massive heroin overdose
Her mother (who was an obssesive control freakish bitch, and who had in all likelyhood been the major cause of Char's suicide) firmly believed that we, her friends, had lead her into smack (even though we had all been trying to get her to kick it for YEARS, and none of the rest of us took it.) Thus she banned us all from the actual funeral - "family only" apparently. So we hid in Highgate cemetary and waited till the "family" (her mum and her brother) had gone, then held our own funeral, the way she would have wanted it. Her brother gave his mum the slip and came as well - he was decent - and we all sat on her grave and got drunk and stoned and took turns telling stories about her, and watched the sunset, and cried a lot - but in a good, she was wonderful kind of way. Then we decorated her grave with hundreds of flowers that one of my friends stole from a florist, left her a bottle of vodka and a cigarette and went to a friends house to continue the somewhat maudlin tribute to her life.

It was heartbreaking yet cathartic, and a much better send off than some old priest with no connection to her or her family droning on about heaven (which she didn't believe in) and god (which she also didn't believe in.)
(visceralvixen, Fri 12 May 2006, 0:55, Reply)

I have a huge family
some of whom I've still never met and don't recognise in the street. They're mainly my dad's family and it's because he doesn't really want to see them either. (They scare him.)

When I was 13, my grandma died suddenly (I say suddenly because she was like the way Eddie Izzard describes grans "I am a gran, I live forever", with a gran coat and a cake on her head). My family all live about 150 miles away and like I said, I get evils in the street for not recognising Auntie Whoever who I've not seen since I was six months old. So we have the funeral - what I remember of it it was a lovely service. The problems for me were at the wake.

Because I was her only granddaughter, me and the parents were the principal mourners. And so there was a neverending stream of people coming up to me, hugging me and saying "I'm so sorry about your loss." And nine times out of ten I didn't know who the hell they were. They could have been people off the street wanting free food and I wouldn't have known. So after smiling, thanking the first few of them and offering them cocktail sausages, I employed my dad to stand near me and then after they'd gone say "That's your Uncle Mal's sister's cousin" or whatever.

It was made all the more worrying as everyone gradually got drunker (and in some cases more aggressive - my Uncle Derek was banned from the social club for calling the barman something my mum wouldn't let me hear at the time), and then they all got into a row about which side of the family I looked most like.

And then there was a disco. Which I'm sure Gran would have appreciated, but at a funeral?
My family scare me.

(Incidentally for my funeral, again like Izzard says, I want an 'oh bum, she's dead' funeral, and then to be twung into a tree. With people in bright colours singing happy songs about flowers and bunny rabbits and John Denver.)
( Maladicta, Fri 12 May 2006, 0:46, Reply)

Great Aunt's funeral
My great aunt died at 98, and we trooped off to Margate - one of the only places so depressing that the crematorium was cheerful by comparison. When we got there a guy who'd just got out of a previous funeral was struggling with a brand new-looking Land Rover which the gearbox had fallen out of: surely a hugely depressing day. There were only half a dozen people at the funeral, making it even more depressing, as no one from her home could get transport in.


There was one cheery point. When my dad was preparing for the funeral he decided to play some songs from a compilation called Songs That Won The War, since she was highly patriotic (though not in a racist way) and had only just seen out the 60th anniversary of VE Day. So what did they play when the coffin went through the doors of the crematorium to the furnace?

Popular song of the time Wish Me Luck As You Wave Me Goodbye.
( Whillow, Fri 12 May 2006, 0:27, Reply)

hughy, you're looking, pasty...
a neighbour's husband died, we were invited to what mhairi (the nighbour) called a "wake" for big hughy (the husband). mother and i assumed this was post funeral.
turned out it was in fact pre-funeral and the deceased was in attendance, allowing me to see my first corpse.
i was 5 at the time, i still thought hughy looked like a drag queen.
7 years later i saw my second corpse. that was my mother. less funny i suppose.
(sarcasticgirl, Fri 12 May 2006, 0:10, Reply)

My mother's friend's dad died
so the arrangements were all carried out, the coffin was bought, flowers were arranged, and music was chosen to be played as the coffin was lowered in.
This caused a problem.

The dead guy's widow arranged to have the music from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (everything I do) played as the coffin was lowered. But the funeral director obviously wasn't listening, so as the coffin was being lowered into the grave, all of a sudden everyone hears "Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen..." and starts rolling around on the floor laughing.
The funeral director thought it was a bit of an odd choice...
( parttimedogfish is a Born-Again Reincarnationist, Thu 11 May 2006, 23:49, Reply)

Not me but...
My next-door neighbour's dad is a vicar. He apparently got in quite a lot of trouble when he once buried someone that didn't have a death certificate
(Oily, Thu 11 May 2006, 23:44, Reply)

This isnt so much a story ABOUT one, but a plan
of the one i WANT to have.

When i die, i want to have my open casket fitted with a spring-loaded base, so that when all my friends, relatives, and scroungers are present at my 'passing on' gig, a timer can set a spring off and send my body flailing into the air upon all the unsuspecting guests.
And i'd have sent out party invites to everyone, making sure the party date is AFTER my funeral.
I'll be dammned if I'm going out without a few laughs!
( Lord Aerixis, Thu 11 May 2006, 23:27, Reply)

When my great grandma died
I was 12 and my great grandma had just died and my family was all very sad. But when my brother and i relised that she lived in philadelphia which is in the U.S.A we were so excited. We flew on a plane where we met my cousin and his family.
I was very afraid of the open
cascket because i thought she was still alive.
she looked alive.
so when we were sitting during the catholic and the priest got a bit drunk from the communion wine.
when the priest waved that incents it gave me a
terrible migrain.
During the burying the whole was very big and i almost fell in.
Its was the best funeral I
ever went to.
(The abominable coffee table Likes french fries, Thu 11 May 2006, 23:19, Reply)

Life Death and Sex
My Grandmother's funeral was at a crematoirium in central London. As you can iagine it was pretty busy, so we had to wait. We met the previous funeral party coming out, and there was one very saucy girl looking abosultely stunning in black, with a sexy little veil and carring a small wreath, the epitome of sexy widowhood or more likely grand daughterhood. Giving her the once over, her eye caught mine and she gave me what can only be described as a royal eye fucking, even tunring back saucily to see if I was was still looking (which I was).

Not so much funny as fun, and she had no complaints about length so nor should you. Are we still doing this?
(TheBoyTucker, Thu 11 May 2006, 23:07, Reply)

The vicar at my grandmother's funeral...
... had an odd stroke-type tic in which he kept craning his neck to look over us, the congregation, to the back of the room.
Me, thinking he was actually looking something, actually turned around to see what he was looking at.
I felt a bit guilty when I realised, but it was amusing.
( CaroWallis, Thu 11 May 2006, 22:52, Reply)

Apologies for lack of hummus...
My best mate jumped off a cliff about 3 years back and I made it my vow that it would be the last funeral I ever went to...

Apparently he chose the music for his funeral on his suicide note, hence I can never listen to the following two songs ever again;

Placebo - The Bitter End
Sugarcult - Bouncing Of The Walls

Both which I foundly highly ironic given his death and the manner in which it came about...


Still, without death there'd be a lot of really old people scaring the shite out of everyone so I guess there is a plus side...

Tomx
(I R Tomsk pyromaniacs will only inflame the situation, Thu 11 May 2006, 22:47, Reply)

sad moment
the last remaining grandparent passes away; the focal point of that generation moves on; the brother and two sisters (around 60) realise that they are to become the focal points for the next 'set' of the family ...

we all attend the crematorium on the day ... then return presently for the scattering of the ashes ... memorial books are browsed, the grandchildren (in their 20s and 30s) develop a sense that maybe we won't see each other again as the family fragments ...

before the scattering of the ashes, i have to visit the crematorium loo ... i come back a few minutes later and an aunt (whom i haven't seen since) fixes me with a glint in her eye and says, "pounds lighter eh?"

but that's family for you...
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Thu 11 May 2006, 22:20, Reply)

Catholic Funerals
I've been to a few - my Dad's, my Uncle's and my best friend's Wife's Dad's (I can't remember why that last one) - All of which were dull, long and boring Catholic ones.

I don't care what you say, but it you're going to get put down by a priest, make it NOT a catholic one as all the other denominations have a sense of humour.

With the exception of Forces catholic priests all of whom drink and have a totally brilliant sense of humour!

Too many apostrophes - I know
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 11 May 2006, 22:08, Reply)

So....
...we're in the big long black car, just pulled up to my grandpa's funeral, me, my mum, my brother, along with my grandpa's brother, Uncle Fred. A sombre moment. Quite a big crowd is outside the church, awaiting our arrival. I remember their sad, sympathetic faces still. We all look at each other... it is time to get out of the car and make our way in.... Except for one problem. Uncle Fred's seatbelt has got jammed somehow.... And what better way was there for him to mark the moment than by breaking into a rousing rendition of the Engelbert Humperdinck classic "Please Release Me, Let Me Go" at the top of his voice. I'll never forget the look on the other mourners faces as we all just sat there in the car pissing ourselves laughing, while old Uncle Fred was rescued still crooning like a good'un.

Hilarious at the time although I could never watch the Fast Show without remembering my grandpa's funeral after that.
(pinkois, Thu 11 May 2006, 21:56, Reply)

Ahh, funerals..
I happen to work in a pharmacy in the US, and so every so often someone interesting will come in, and I heard the following story from a regular customer just yesterday...

The man works in a mental hospital, and one of his patients came from a very wealthy family. Her mother, after she retired, spent quite a bit of time planning every detail of her own funeral. She finally died, and last weekend, there was to be a viewing. They tried to move her casket into the room where it was to be held, but it couldn't quite fit, so the men carrying it tilted it to the side to fit it through the door.

Once most of the people had arrived, two men got up to open the casket. In the move, the body had shifted, and the deceased lady was now on her side with her arm stretched out, reaching for them. Her daughter, the mental patient, started screaming, and they jumped to close the casket again. In the rush they hit the low chandelier.

The funeral home was very old, and the chandelier was filthy. In southern regions, such as Florida, where I have the misfortune of living, there are little red and black bugs known as 'love bugs' mainly because they fly around stuck together and die after mating. The chandelier was full of them, because they tend to migrate inside. The formerly fucking insect corpses rained down on the dead woman, which just sent the daughter into more hysterics, and so the funeral director took the handkerchief from her mother's hand that was stretched towards the edge of the casket, and tried to wipe her tears with it.

The mental patient had a breakdown and was hospitalized again.

I thought it was funny, personally..
(Fodqou, Thu 11 May 2006, 21:54, Reply)

Up until last year, I'd never been to a funeral.
My grandad died on my birthday in June, and I decided that as I hadn't made it to Gran's funeral and hadn't touched foot on English soil in over 6 years, I'd fly home for the funeral and spend a month or so visiting family and friends.

I got home on the Monday (July 4th, I was missing a great party!) night, and the funeral was on the Wednesday. On the Tuesday, I met up with my twin and other immediate family members for dinner and it was bittersweet - I was home again but under such sad circumstances.

During the funeral service, I had a massive panic attack (no "safe" places and horrible circumstances and jetlag) will do that to ya, so I discreetly hauled ass out of the church and sat and wobbled on the steps outside. The funeral company were great, they got me water and naturally we got talking until the end of the service.
Got to meet up with loads of people I hadn't seen in ages.

A week later, my (ex) step dad died. My stepfather was a paedophile and I was his main victim and when mum got the phone call from my stepsister, it was very wierd. I made the decision to go to his funeral because (I know this sounds stupid) I couldn't forgive him in life, but I didn't want him to hate him after his death. His funeral was horrible, due to his nature the only people that turned up were me, his son and daughter and a nephew and their partners (all of whom knew about the sexual abuse). Mind you, a great weight was lifted off my shoulders and I felt a great sense of freedom when I saw him burn.
On the way out, the funeral company were greeting the mourners, and the nice guy that had given me water the previous week asked if I was stalking him!

The following week, my ex husbands nana died and the ex m-i-l invited me to the funeral.
One of the great-grandchildren had seen nana in her wedding dress during the viewing and asked if nana was gettign married to grandad again up in Heaven.
Anyway, I digress.
On the way into the church, I stayed at the back so as to be discreet. As the funeral company were on the way out of the church, the same guy almost fainted seeing me again at yet another funeral they were providing.

Mind you, by the time that vacation was over at least 4 other people that my mum knew died and everyone was practically dragging me to the airport!

Oh, and here is a quick recap of what I did for grans funeral that I couldn't attend.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 11 May 2006, 21:48, Reply)