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)