Jim would have laughed
Jim was a fellow student at college some years ago. Most of us were on the course as an alternative to unemployment and were "mature" but Jim was more mature than most. He was, to be honest, rather boring and old fashioned but he was a good bloke for all that and would help anyone in any way he could. We were all genuinely upset, therefore, when he died suddenly of a heart attack.

One of the pieces of music for the funeral was to be Louis Armstrong's "It's a wonderful world" and his daughter was given a tape with instructions to record onto it then rewind it ready to play at the crem. Come the hour, she handed the tape to her mum to give to the vicar. Mum looked at it as she handed it over only to notice that it hadn't been rewound to the start. The tape had been used before and had she not checked, Jim would have sailed off to the strains of "Another one bites the dust".

We would have loved it and so would Jim.
(The Jannie, Thu 11 May 2006, 21:46, Reply)

It was the week I split from my ex-wife
... So I was off to a good start.

Then my aunt died, she was in hospital but it was unexpected. We had to get my parents off their dream retirement cruise & back to make the funeral arrangements. So a pretty awful week.

Then the funeral, at least when that's out of the way we'll start to feel a bit better. We do the thing at the crematorium, then back for the sarnies and cakes. We were all starting to relax a bit when the funeral director came in and quietly asked to see my Mum & uncle outside. They were gone for 20 minutes or so, then re-appeared; pale, shocked, looking like they're both about to keel over.

Turns out the incompetent fuckers had given us the wrong coffin. We had to go back and do it all over again. No idea who we'd just sent off.

So two funerals in a day.

Oh, and I had to have the cat put down that afternoon too.
(simon shitting mason, Thu 11 May 2006, 21:45, Reply)

Funeral
I've been to a couple of funerals.

Danny, a colleague of mine, was killed in a volcano accident in Hawai'i and because he'd not specified a religion as part of his personal details for our mutual employer they put him through a Hawai'ian Protestant Christian service. When his estranged family arrived (he hadn't spoken to them in years, and his wife wasn't on speaking terms with them either) a massive fight kicked-off as his family were all seriously Jewish and Danny was the most atheist chap I'd ever met. They ended up with a non-denominational service at a crematorium. One thing : he was so passionately into his work that he asked that his suit (flame retardant, that had so radically failed him) be buried with him and he went into the oven his damaged body head to foot in a v-suit, including hat and visor!

From a more sobering perspective my friend Jim in Scotland who was very, very ill several years ago made me promise that I'd ensure that when it was his funeral (which he expected to be in a matter of weeks at that time (thankfully, he's still with us)) the church would have thousands (and he meant THOUSANDS) of white candles and "Who Wants To Live Forever" (Queen) playing. Despite its' being one of my favourite songs of all time every time I hear it now I get a shiver up my spine thinking of my commitment to Jim.

Finally a funeral I attended as a student of a distant relative was planned to such an extent that Rod (a musician, hippy, and all round nice chap) had instructed everyone that there were to be no tears and everyone was to smile. The non-denominational service was beautiful and all of his friends who he lived with at the time came to the front and one at a time told everyone their favourite memory of Rod. Laughed (sombrely) more that day than I have in a long time.

Hope it's a long time before mine.
(Seismologist Have patience. In time even grass becomes milk., Thu 11 May 2006, 21:22, Reply)

Waiting for the off.....
So we're sitting in the car outside my Gran's house waiting for my Grandad's hearse to arrive and the start of the journey to the crematorian. My dad's trying to keep us upbeat and prevent the tears so comes out with this about the order of cars in the convoy and my gay uncle...."Now your uncle x should be bringing up the rear, he's got the most experience!" We all laughed our heads off including my younger siblings and it was a bemused looking funeral director that drove passed us in the hearse.
(NotSaying lurking is fun, Thu 11 May 2006, 21:18, Reply)

thanks dad!
i was sittin in the house one day a couple of years ago and my dad rings me to say that one my mates granny had died. 2 days later he rings me again and says that i should go to the funeral and so off i trot half asleep to the other side of town to the chapel. walk in and wonder where the coffin is. think nothing of it and go on in and sit down eventually to be wedged in between a load of old people. slowly realise my mates are nowhere in sight and that i had unwittingly been tricked into goin to mass. i'm not religious in the bit but im stuck there until communion when i get up and just run out the door when i had a clear path. made it to the funeral the next day where everybody had a good laugh. at least i cheered up some people! oh and my dad had made an honest mistake but my whole family still laugh at the story
(i_live_in_a_bubble, Thu 11 May 2006, 20:36, Reply)

two in as many months
last november, my gran died on the 17th (which was, coincidentally, my eldest brother's birthday). it had been a long time coming, as she had a brain tumour, and had had two strokes. about a week after her dying, my friend phillip (who was 16) had a heart attack in the night, and had to be taken to hospital. he died... 3 days later i think. then it was my gran's funeral, the week after that. that was a pretty heavy going few weeks.

then it was phillip's funeral on the 4th of january. always a nice way to see in the new year.

now i feel all sad. cack.
(notjustahatrack peeling a sausage..., Thu 11 May 2006, 20:26, Reply)

Cremation
A story that has passed into the mythology of my fairly large family, which concerns one of my aunts who was going to the funeral of a distant work colleague, many years ago:

She arrived about half an hour early on the day, and was admitted into the chapel, where she was left alone with the coffin. After a few minutes, she started to get bored. She saw nothing to satisfy her restlessness in the empty chapel - except a little panel at the end, which provoked her curiosity.

Mourners arriving later were surprised to find out that the coffin and the corpse had 'mysteriously disappeared'.
(Radio Free iPods "Fickt nicht mit dem Raketenmensch!", Thu 11 May 2006, 20:17, Reply)

My grandmother's funeral
was this past november. I learned things I never knew about her. Apparently, the pastor did not know very much about her, so he just made things up. He called her by the names that people would know her by, which was a nice touch until he called her by a name I am sure nobody had ever called her by. We could barely contain ourselves every time he referred to her as that in the rest of the service.
There were also the usual stories of her at a young age, but the thing that made my whole family give funny looks was when during the eulogy from the pastor, when he said how much my grandmother enjoyed watching one of the local sports teams play on television. I don't believe my grandmother had ever watched any sporting event besides golf, and our whole family started looking around at each other with confused looks.

Otherwise it was a nice service, but if you are going to have someone speak at the service, make sure they actually knew the deceased.
( Or is it?, Thu 11 May 2006, 20:15, Reply)

ashes to ashes
I remember going to see my crazy grandad one time and the conversation came round to death. So as I was only a small child, I asked when he thought he would die. His reply was "I hope not f*cking soon", funny man. However he then said "I don't want people crying when I do go, and I will take as many people as possible for company", then he burst out laughing.

*5 years later*

Eventually the inevatable happened and I had to go to the funeral. Well they were nearly at the end of the service and me granpa had been sent off into the big oven. Everyone thought the service was over but we smelled smoke(family), so we turned around to see what was wrong and... Some how the curtain to stop people seeing into the oven had caught fire, my uncle started laughing and then said the old fool was lonely already. Which caused half of my family to cry with laughter (the side with the sense of humour) and the other side complained and wept in misery.

So the moral of this story is listen to your family members who are on their deathbeds, they might suprise you later on.
(el nombre, Thu 11 May 2006, 20:11, Reply)

a crying shame.
A friend was telling me a few years ago about how at her brother-in-laws funeral, her husband was a paul-bearer.

He was carrying his own brothers coffin.

He was close with his brother and naturally, devastated.

As they put the coffin down facing the cremeation chamber, her husband refused to let go of the coffin. He was crying, weeping and sobbing; too much to form a coherant sentance.

He was there for 10 minutes. He was getting louder and making more of a scene. It was only until the mother came up to console the brother, did anyone realise his fingers were caught under the coffin and were seeping with blood.

Oops.
( TonyUNDERSCORE from the Internet, Thu 11 May 2006, 20:01, Reply)

3 for the price of one.....
My family arn't the the closest in the world - and when my dad died end of last year I seized the opportunity, as only I can to turn it into a rather tasteless joke. Cue many looks of horror/disgust when I calmly asked my work collegues "Whats Equalizors dad getting for Christmas?" "Cremated!".

Ahh, I'm so proud. And Dad would have been too.

Since it's not actually a funeral story and continuing the theme of my dysfunctional family...

My mum attended her Dads funeral, (in fact we all did). It was, as you'd expect an extremely solemn affair, held in a rather old Cemetary building.

Not only did the vicar get his name wrong multiple times,as well as the name of his children, but my mum ended up in a fit of the giggles which set her sister off.....

and finally...

One of our customers runs a Funeral Directors.

On one occasion they were given a CD to play at the funeral, I believe the chosen track was to be "In My Life" by the Beatles. So imagine the fun, when in the middle of a quiet, packed church "HELP!" by the Beatles kicks in, as only "Help!" can.

Wonderful.

Rob
(Equalizor, Thu 11 May 2006, 20:00, Reply)

There could have been another funeral...
[Reposted from "Now, there was no need for that..."]

Nine years ago, my Nan died, in not the most pleasant way possible.

For the funeral we had a humanist minister (read: thankfully not religious). He was an idiot.

He got my Nan's name wrong. Well, to give more detail, he used her given name "A", rather than the one everyone used, "B". I didn't even know that "B" wasn't her real name until after she died. I think some people at the funeral wondered if they were at the right one. Apparently, it's a Welsh thing - name your kid one thing and call her another. Odd.

The minister then said that my Nan and her first husband (my Mum's Dad) had separated. Perhaps "been separated" would have been a better phrase - my grandfather died of a heart attack after laying paving slabs. My Mum was only 8, he in his mid-thirties. Naturally, she was somewhat upset about this cock-up, not to mention the name thing. She creased.

At the end I saw my Nan's second husband, who I know as my Grandad (ex-army captain, trained Gurkhas, still fits into his uniform despite being in his 70s) pinioning the minister against a wall and having some rather strong words with him. The fellow didn't get any cash for all this - and was pretty lucky to come out of it without serious injury. Twatbadger.
( Parmesan Quality b4 Quantity, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:47, Reply)

Funeral for a friend
A couple of years ago, about a week before my birthday, I had the news of an old friend (Tim)passing; he was 37 and died very suddenly. I live in Madrid, flew to the UK for the funeral (my first).
An emotional affair to say the least but had one of the defining moments of my life.
One of his friends, Al, an ex-army lad (who'd been through good and bad times with Tim) paid his respects at the end of the service. No tears, no speaches; he just quietly walked up to the cofin, hands to his side, then stood in front in silent thoughts. There was a dignity about him, about the look in his eyes, that cut through the cloud of grief. It was naked grief and it was beautiful. With all the tears there was that sharp dignity; it moves me now as it did then. Something to aspire to.
(DustyD, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:46, Reply)

Angel Cussed
Ben, one of my best friends, died very suddenly towards the end of last year. He was an amazing guy, and the funeral was attended by a multitude of people, all from different lives. Ben had that effect on most people that he met - everyone there felt proud to have been his friend.

Ben's sister was saying a few words in front of everyone; God knows how she did it. I, like most people there, was in absolutely no state to even string together a sentence. Ben's niece, a very cute girl of about 5, was there. She was wearing her favourite fairy suit with wings. Seeing her mum so upset, but not really understanding what was happening, she went to give her mum a hug. As she was lifted up, she found herself in front of hundreds of adults, all of whom were in some sort of state.

She raised her head up, slowly looked at as all, then clearly said: "Fuck". Then she walked off.

Never before have I ever been so amused and grief-stricken at the same time
(geegee, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:37, Reply)

Roger's dead dad
Roger's dad was great. Then he died. Poor Roger's dad. We were invited to his funeral, and we turned up - a whole crowd of family friends - at the appointed time and date at Bracknell Crematorium.

We were ushered in by some flunky and the service started. There was, however, no sign of Roger, who we surmised was probably going to be a pall-bearer. He wasn't. He couldn't possibly miss his own dad's funeral, could he?

"Call her mum, gran, or just plain Shirley..." said the vicar.

"Oh bollocks!" said one of our party.

As a hymn started we made a dash for it, but fell foul of those square cushions the faithful leave lying around churches. Down we all went, like a pack of cards.

The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want - "Get your foot out of my face"
He makes me down to lie - "You bastard, that hurts!"
In pastures green; He leadeth me - "And you can get your hand off my arse for a start"
The quiet waters by. - "Christ on a bike, who's farted?"

Outside, we met Roger.

"Oh. Didn't I tell you we'd put it back to three o'clock?"

Shirley - we're really, really sorry.

The full 12" version HERE, or you could just hang on a month and read it in me new book, eh?
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:32, Reply)

I don't really care what happens at my funeral
but I've told my Mum that I wouldn't be seen dead in a hearse.
( GTA, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:32, Reply)

:(
Frankly, every funeral I've been at has been a horribly upsetting experience, which I hope I don't have to repeat to often.
(garrison, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:22, Reply)

When I go...
I know this isn't really a funeral story per se, but I've made my friends and family swear that when I die, they will load my body into a rocket, fire it into orbit and then blow it up. I want to go out with a bang!

Even better, I want to be placed in a geostationary orbit (with a little window so I can see) over a plaque which reads 'He will forever be watching us'. Which will be true, for whoever is standing at the plaque.

I know I shouldnt be thinking so much into this.

Length will only grow greater with death
(fox_handybread, Thu 11 May 2006, 19:04, Reply)

Uncle Charlie's funeral
Took the girlfriend (even though she had never met him) and she's a bit of a beginner at the funeral thing, having only been to one previously when she was a wee nipper. I guide her through it as best I can, stand up now, sit down now etc.

Time for the first hymn...

DUN DUN DUN DUN goes the organ (we were sat near the pipes)

HOLY SHIT shrieketh the girlfriend. In church, at a funeral.

Holy shit indeed :/
(FiftyFour, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:58, Reply)

At my funeral, I want people to say
"Look, he's still alive!"
( Lightguy hail satan, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:56, Reply)

inappropriate hymn choice no. 3452
My Ma-in-law was at this funeral. In an attempt at keeping it happy, a modern primary-school jolly hymn was chosen.

Imanine the moment - the casket is going towards the furnace, and the doors open, while everyone is singing jollily
"So light up the fire and let the flame burn,
open the doors....let Jesus return mumble mumble".
(teasus likes tea, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:56, Reply)

Thanks Tim
My best friend Tim, *sigh* has made me promise that if he dies before me, I will go to his funeral and shout "WANK!" as loud as I can when his dad makes a talk about his son.

Worrying thing is this is exactly the sort of thing that he would find funny. He also said he wants everyone to be naked as, "He won't see any boobs whilst he's alive."

Probably true as well.
(iwantacone, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:50, Reply)

Hi. My name's Jack
My mom sent me to Australia to find my good-for-nothing Dad, who I'd recently got struck off as a doctor for srinking on the job. Unfortunately he died out there before I got to him, so I had to fly the corpse home. There were some problems at the airport, but after I shouted at a nice lady she let me get the body on the plane.

But then the plane only went and crashed didn't it? And then, a couple of days into getting used to being on a wierd island, I started seeing my Dad walking about all over the place. - wierd huh?

But it was OK after I chased him a bit and found the coffin. I broke down and cried and then I found some caves!!

So me freaking out and hallucinating my drunk dead Pop saved lots of peoples lives!!!!! bonus!
(teasus likes tea, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:49, Reply)

Oh dear.
Having a conversation with a good friend of mine:

Me: Hey, not seen you around for a while - where have you been?
Him: I've been in Luton.
Me: Oh? Just went down to have a look at the airport? *belly laugh from me*
Him: Actually, it was my grandpa's funeral.
( Christian Bale of Hay in a field, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:35, Reply)

My Dad was late for his own funeral
He died in Africa and we weren't sure when his body was going to be flown home, but we had to tell the relly's something, so we just estimated and picked a date for the funeral. Would you believe there are companies entirely dedicated to shipping stiffs around the world? Who knew? They fly standby by the way, unless you pay extra. All depends on how much luggage there is or something.

Just think about that next time you check your Louis Vuitton. It could be drushing up against a corpse in the cargo hold.

Turns out, his flight came in about 3 hours too late, so we had to improvise with an empty urn.

He probably would have found that really funny. That and the SuperTramp tape that we played (cause her really liked it), flipped over to the other side and started playing Pink Floyd The Wall during the sermon.

There was nowhere to go for a smoke, so the funeral director let us use the cold area in the back with the shiny tables. Creepy but fun.
(Peelmytangerines, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:31, Reply)

Ive Decided
To have a fancy dress funeral when I go, I want everyone to go as the grim Reaper, and as Im going through the doors to the firey warmth, I want Tina turner singing Disco inferno played.


Go-on Click it bitch! You know you want to!
( Mrs.Sp@m, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:20, Reply)

Not quite the QOTW, but close.
First, as with my last post, a little backstory.

My school is a head-up-its-own-arse grammar school in Plymouth, that may or may not be titled evenport-day igh-hay chool-say for oys-bay. At the end of GCSEs I was told I couldnt do maths at my school for A level, since I got one mark under the grade boundary for an A. By the by and I find a place at the Girls version of my fine* insitution, and start going in a taxi along with other guys for various lessons to the girls school several times a week.

I fell in with a bunch of very nice girls, with Nice being the main descriptor. Since they often didnt say a lot, I would often breeze in of a morning/lunch hour before my afternoon lesson and say "Bloody hell, you're quiet. Has someone died, or something?"

Of course, you can see where this is going.

I turn up one morning and everyone is, as usual, pretty quiet. I remark my oft-told line, only to get the response:

"Yeah, someone has, actually." Since this comes from my best friend of the group I think its just her taking the piss a little so I play along.

"Yeah? What of?"

"Leukemia."

"No shit. Popular kid?"

"Very," she says, passing me a school notice and invite to all and sundry to attend remberance service, "The funeral's tommorow."

"Ah." I say, with everyone looking at me with daggers for eyes, "FUCK."

...but thats not all. Oh no.

I come in on the lunchtime a day later, and since my afternoon lesson is cancelled due to rememberance service, the first thing out of my mouth is "Great! Whod've thought I owe a dead person a favour!"

Her best friend in the sixth form was sitting not two feet away. We havent spoken for a year and a half.

Was it something I said?

*might be a crock.
(castaboras the time at the beep will be, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:16, Reply)

At a funeral which I was 'asked' not to attend
one of the guests was on remand. He attended in handcuffs, and stayed cuffed to a prison officer the whole time.

He was only allowed into the church for the service and was whisked away afterwards - no graveside tears, no ham - and was in fact only present long enough to be photographed by a certain tabloid newspaper.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:13, Reply)

Appropriate Timing
I've just got back from attending the funeral of my great-grandmother. Thought to myself "I'll just load up b3ta, see what the new qotw is..."

The service was nice, and she'd lived a long and relatively good life, which is what matters. Of course, being part Irish, I got to play the old fun game of 'Desperately try and recall the name of the person you're shaking hands with' that comes with any occasion involving my extended family. I'm getting better, even if I say so myself.

This got me thinking about my own funeral arrangements (God knows why, I've got at least a good forty something years left) I'm thinking of having people employed to stand at the side and enforce a two minute limit on crying. Mourning is all well and good, but I want my send-off to be a celebration of my life.

Apoligies for lack of particular humour. Length? Well it's all relative, isn't it?
(Uncle Comrade, Thu 11 May 2006, 18:13, Reply)