The Most Unusual Funerals I've Ever Attended

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I’m at the age of life when a disproportionate amount of my social calendar is spent attending funerals, and for some reason, a number of these events have not been your basic send-offs. I suppose that says a lot about the people I know — or knew.

Growing up in a Jewish family, as is our tradition, I never saw an open casket. Just the idea of seeing a dead body frightened me, but when I was 22, I was a catalogue copywriter in the Small Electrical Appliances department of Sears Roebuck & Co. It was my first grownup job, my first real paycheck, and my first real boss, and when my boss’ wife died, everyone at work was going to the funeral. I was nervous. It was also going to be my first Catholic funeral, and the coffin would be open.

“Don’t worry,” my coworker Mina said to me. “Just sit in the back — and keep your eyes shut.”

Great plan — until we all arrived at the church, where my boss was greeting everyone at the entry. “I’m so sorry,” I blubbered.

He sighed and said, “Come see my beautiful wife.”

What? His beautiful, dead wife? What could I do? Say, thanks, but I’ll pass?

I ended up standing with him, staring down into that casket, seeing this sorta peaceful, kinda pale woman I’d never met. Wasn’t I supposed to remark that she looked natural? Except she didn’t look at all natural. I gulped and said, “She has really nice skin. She must have taken good care of it.”

Since then, I’d like to think my funeral comments have improved, but I’ve heard some serious blips.

When my friend Cal’s mother died, Cal’s cousin, who’d recently taken a Toastmaster’s class, was quick to volunteer to deliver the eulogy. In his grief, Cal neglected to remember that the cousin was from Cal’s father’s side of the family — Cal’s parents were long divorced — and Mr. Toastmaster hadn’t seen Phyllis in decades.

The cousin spoke for over 30 minutes — a lifetime in Funeral Time — chuckling over family stories, none of which included the guest of honor. Just as I was whispering to my husband Randy, “Hey, does this guy remember this is Phyllis’ funeral?” the cousin said, “There was this one time, when I was a kid, and I was at a family Christmas dinner. I looked across the table and saw Phyllis. And she smiled at me.”

That was it. Phyllis’s one shout-out at her own funeral was a smile.

The mother of my friend Evie had better luck. Her eulogy was delivered by Evie’s sister, who set up an easel stand and a large paper pad, the kind you’d use to make a business presentation before the invention of PowerPoint. In thick black marker, she wrote the letters S-H-I-R-L-E-Y in a big vertical line. Then, letter by letter, she spoke about Shirley’s finest traits, writing them out for us all to admire. S for Smart. H for Helpful. I for Inspiring. Right through to Y for Young-at-heart.

“Hard to top that,” I whispered to Randy.

I was wrong. The sister then announced, “As you can see, my mother was a wonderful woman, one who accepted me for who I am. And now, I’d like you all to accept me for who I am.” She took a long, dramatic pause and said, “I am gay.”

The attendees nodded, shrugged or looked puzzled. “Did she just come out at her mother’s funeral?” Randy whispered to me.

“Apparently so,” I said.

At least that was a loving funeral, unlike the one for the husband of Randy’s work friend. Marlene and her husband were on the verge of splitting up right when the husband got sick. Marlene hung in there, taking care of him up until that funeral. Eulogies were delivered, but none of them were what you’d call warm.

A grown son from a previous marriage spoke, sharing a story about the time he and his sister were fighting over a cassette tape, tugging it back and forth between them. “I’ll always remember my father marching into the room, snapping the cassette from us, dropping it on the floor and smashing it with his foot.”

That was the memory the son shared at his father’s funeral, and it was about the nicest thing anyone had to say that day.

“Am I missing something here, or did nobody like this guy?” I asked Randy.

“Now you know why Marlene wanted a divorce,” he said.

I adored my friend Dickie, and when he died 12 years ago, I didn’t expect to find myself grinning at his funeral, but his wife, Patty, wanted Dickie’s goodbye to reflect Dickie. He was the friend who hosted black tie bowling parties and birthday celebrations in smoky Russian nightclubs. Their wedding featured an Elvis Impersonator. Patty made sure we all wore Dickie’s idea of fancy couture to the service — bowling shirts and Hawaiian shirts — and as we all filed out behind the coffin, a doo-wop band sang Good Night Sweetheart and the 1963 song So Much In Love.

It's intriguing to consider what special touches I’d like for my own departure. My sister Gina wants to be turned into biodegradable compost and come back as a tree — a concept I find totally creepy. Our cousin Cindy has already requested disco music for hers. But my sister and I both agree that our mom went out with the most surprising flourish.

Years earlier, she had pre-paid for her funeral and picked out the casket she’d feel most at home in for all eternity. Gina and I didn’t see her choice until the service. As we both stood gawking at our mom’s white pearlized coffin with its French-style gold borders and the lid painted with pink and purple flowers, I said, “Where did she even find this?”

“I don’t know,” Gina said, “but it’s perfect.”

And, yes, it was, downright memorable.

 
Have you ever attended an unusual funeral? What happened? Let us know in the comments below.