Putting the Fun in Funeral
Some deaths come suddenly or too soon and can really hit hard, others seem to be a blessed relief. Similarly, some funerals can be deeply upsetting and sad, others can make you want to hug the world.
Mmm, don't want to bring you down or anything, but tell us your funeral stories...
( , Thu 11 May 2006, 9:31)
Some deaths come suddenly or too soon and can really hit hard, others seem to be a blessed relief. Similarly, some funerals can be deeply upsetting and sad, others can make you want to hug the world.
Mmm, don't want to bring you down or anything, but tell us your funeral stories...
( , Thu 11 May 2006, 9:31)
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A baby's funeral is a terrible thing -
nothing funny about it all.
Many years ago, after my tiny nephew's funeral, I was walking through town when one of those clipboard women approached me.
'Cheer up! she called out gaily. 'You look as if you've been to a funeral!'
It had to be done. I replied, 'I have, actually. A baby's.'
Her face was, as they say, 'a picture.'
The funeral flowers were many and beautiful, so I discreetly took photos of them.
When the pictures came back (they still had to be developed in those days) they were really gorgeous - lots of rattles and teddies and so on made of flowers. Heartbreaking really.
I showed them to my then husband, saying, DON'T mention them until someone says 'I wish we had a photo of those lovely flowers...'
As he was horrified that I'd taken the photos in the first place, he gladly kept shtum.
Seven long years later, his mother said 'You know, I wish I had a photo of...' and he was able to produce them with a flourish, and incidentally take all the credit. Bastard.
( , Thu 11 May 2006, 13:14, Reply)
nothing funny about it all.
Many years ago, after my tiny nephew's funeral, I was walking through town when one of those clipboard women approached me.
'Cheer up! she called out gaily. 'You look as if you've been to a funeral!'
It had to be done. I replied, 'I have, actually. A baby's.'
Her face was, as they say, 'a picture.'
The funeral flowers were many and beautiful, so I discreetly took photos of them.
When the pictures came back (they still had to be developed in those days) they were really gorgeous - lots of rattles and teddies and so on made of flowers. Heartbreaking really.
I showed them to my then husband, saying, DON'T mention them until someone says 'I wish we had a photo of those lovely flowers...'
As he was horrified that I'd taken the photos in the first place, he gladly kept shtum.
Seven long years later, his mother said 'You know, I wish I had a photo of...' and he was able to produce them with a flourish, and incidentally take all the credit. Bastard.
( , Thu 11 May 2006, 13:14, Reply)
« Go Back