Another funeral story-
I was asked to officiate a funeral for a person who didn't have a church. When the funeral director called to ask me to officiate, I was told that the family had been interesting to work with. The deceased had been taken to a different funeral home and then the living members had some issues with that funeral home. So the funeral director who called me had to go and claim the body off the other funeral homes table. This is not something that funeral directors want to do. Then I was told that the family is having issues with each other and was being fairly demanding. Not unusual.
When I met with the family, at the funeral home, I was told that they didn't really need "all that religious stuff," that a family member had written a song and someone else was reading a poem. Immediately after the service I was told that my services would no longer be needed, and I could leave and not stick around while the casket was prepared to be lowered into the vault. I said okay, it's not uncommon for families to want their own time. I got the information I needed and went over the order of the service with the family. Once everything was agreed upon, I gathered my things and left.
The morning of the funeral, I arrived at the funeral home so we all could head over to the cemetery where the service would be. I walked into the funeral home and the family told me and the funeral director that they would be putting on some hats they found. The funeral director and I said okay. I rode in the hearse and when we got to the cemetery, I watched as the family dawned a wide variety of vintage hats. We started the service and there was no connection to any of the various hats on anyone's head. The original poem was awkward and didn't make a lot of sense. The stories from the family were very short and not very nice to the deceased or each other. The song to be played, also an original piece, started with the family member responsible for it starts playing a Metalica song as a joke. The original song was a rock song, but no one could understand the words.
I finish up the service and the funeral director tells the family that they have all the time that they need. I walk back to the hearse with the funeral assistant and get in. The funeral director is hanging back from the family. I watch as several family members walk to one of their car trunks and pulls out orange juice and vodka. Screwdrivers are passed around the family. I watch as the family pours one out for the deceased. After about five minutes, a family member yells down to the hearse: "you want a screwdriver?" The funeral assistant and I look at each other and yell back "we're good." The funeral director talks to the grave digger as I watch the family go to another car trunk, pull out a cooler and walk it over to the grave. More alcohol is served over "grandma's" grave. When the funeral director nods, the funeral attendant and I leave in the hearse. Driving back to town we both look at each other and ask "what did we just witness?" To this day, neither of us know.
Comments
Post a Comment