I know the following story will sound completely fictitious as though it were written for a sitcom. And since I am a writer of fiction, I would understand your skepticism. And if I had not been there, I might have questioned its veracity as well.
But as an eyewitness, I am here to declare: If you were to ask me to swear in a court of law on a Bible whether or not this story is true, I will say “Aye”—in between bouts of laughter.
The event did not start out as a laughable matter. On the contrary, we were a funeral procession heading to the cemetery to bury our mother. It was hardly the scenario for comedy.
As we solemnly approached the tent set up over Mom’s coffin, we were grateful for the shade offered on this 99-degree afternoon. It seemed an appropriate temperature since Mom was 99 years of age when she died two days prior.
Several seats had been set up facing the coffin and floral arrangements added color to the glistening white box that held my Mom’s remains. The kindly gentlemen from the funeral home offered the cloth-covered fold-up chairs to anyone who would like to sit. My sister JoAnn, never one to hesitate in her response to an offer, accepted the invitation and sat in the middle seat. This is when the comedic routine began.
No sooner had JoAnn settled comfortably onto the chair when it suddenly flipped over backwards, thrusting her on her back with legs in the air.
“I’m all right,” she squawked, in between fits of giggles. Everyone rushed to her side to make sure she was OK. She kept laughing and blurted out, “It’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing a skirt.”
By now, the rest of the family was smothering giggles as well. Trying to compose ourselves, we repositioned the chairs on sturdier footing. With just a hint of hesitation, several of us bravely sat down—and leaned forward for safety.
Suddenly my sister Chris leaped to her feet. “Ow!” she yelled. “Something pricked me! Ow!”
No one could imagine what might cause her such discomfort. My sweet, take-charge niece, Renee, raced toward her aunt and started checking where Chris’ hand was rubbing in pain. Renee pulled out her aunt’s waistband, saw a beetle biting her, reached in and removed the offending insect. She squished the attacking creature and joked about rescuing her aunt’s derriere.
By now I was choking on laughter that threatened to burst out of my throat. Clutching the paper with the words to “How Great Thou Art” that I was to sing in a matter of moments, I prayed, “Lord, help us get this serious service back on track!”
My husband, Steve, who was standing there waiting for calm so he could begin the prayer service, was biting his own cheeks to keep from belly laughing.
It appeared for a moment that calm would ensue and we all held our breath, waiting now for the service to begin. Steve started to speak, and a large vase of flowers tipped over, scattering blooms and flooding his leather shoes in a pool.
By now, no one could keep a straight face. We were laughing so hard, even the funeral employees were struggling to keep a straight face.
I don’t know how long we laughed—but it felt good. After days of sometimes forgetting to breathe, we were all inhaling deeply in chuckles of joy. It was wonderful.
But I was beginning to despair that we would ever get to our purpose for being here: To honor our mother. With chairs secured, beetles crushed and vases removed, Steve took a deep breath and began.
It was perfect. He spoke words of comfort and joy and celebration of eternity. Everything was now as planned.
After the prayer, I stood up and readied to sing the ancient Irish hymn, celebrating Mom’s Celtic heritage. With the Lords help, I managed to get through the entire song without crying—or laughing.
Following the last verse of “Be Thou My Vision,” a hushed, stillness enveloped the group. No one moved or spoke. It was a reverent moment, remembering the life of an awesome lady who had touched our lives—children and grandchildren—who had gathered to honor her memory. For such a usually rambunctious crowd, the silence was unexpected. And precious.
As we watched the casket slowly lowered into the ground, my sister Mary tossed in a single pink rose—one last offering of love before bidding mom farewell.
Walking back to the cars, we were sad yet joyful that Mom was no longer in pain. And we were so grateful for the moments of laughter that broke the tension of our grief.
The best part of the unexpected moments of comedy was knowing how much our Mom would have enjoyed it. After all, the woman had once laughed hysterically watching a Jane Austen movie when the heroine kept repeating the same, dramatic expression over and over. By the middle of that movie, three of us sisters had had to ask Mom and JoAnn to please go in the other room because they couldn’t stop laughing and ruining “Persuasion.”
We all agreed that, if our mother could see this graveside service, she would likely be overcome with chuckles.
Somehow, laughing at the cemetery seemed a fitting way to say “goodbye.”
A time to. . . Sounds like my wedding when my bridesmaid dropped like flies. Glad for the laughter and the tears. They are both good for the heart. {{{hugs}}}
Yes, a time for tears and a time for laughter. And I would LOVE to hear about your bridesmaid fainting! O my word!! 🙂
So glad that you had a “fitting funeral”, that is, a going-away service that your mother would have enjoyed. My husband’s good friend passed away and, at his request, they had a barbecue instead of a funeral. It seemed fitting, too.
Praying for your comfort in the days ahead.
Thank you, Angie. Yes, there is more than one way to celebrate someone’s life. Thanks for your prayers. ((HUGS))
Your mom would have been happy that there were moments of joy in between the sadness. So sorry for your loss. Sometimes it is better to laugh then to cry. God be with you and your family.
Agreed Bonnie! Sometimes you laugh instead of crying. I know it felt better to laugh and Mom truly would have enjoyed it!
If your mom was anything like mine, she was enjoying every smile, every laugh along with you. Lovely tribute to your mom and great insight into human nature.
By the way, in my small way of suppport for you, I hummed and sang “Be Thou My Vision” off and on during the day. So glad you made it through; it took a lot of strength for you to sing like that.
Susan, that means so much to me that you thought of my need for prayer to get through the hymn. What a gift you sent my way. Blessings, dear friend!
Thanks for sharing with us about your mom’s service. I know many of us were praying for you and your family.
There were also very unexpected events that brought laughter at my mom’s service.
Perhaps it’s God’s way of reminding us that one can find levity even in the most serious of circumstances. I agree with the others that suggested that your mom would be laughing also.
Thank you, Janet. And I’m so happy that you found some relief from the sadness at your own Mom’s service. Praise God for the gift of laughter!
Since your mom loved laughter it makes me think perhaps she had a hand in orchestrating the shenanigans 🙂 Remembering her with some giggles seems to have been fitting. Blessings and prayers for you and your family.
Tammy, it seemed like someone was orchestrating mischief!! And yes, my Mom would have loved it and been laughing with us!! Thank you for your prayers.
What your JoAnn did sounds like something that would happen to moi, I have to say. Do you remember the episode of Mary Tyler Moore where she couldn’t stop laughing at the memorial service for Chuckles the Clown (and then couldn’t stop crying)? It’s a classic. And yes, I’m sure your mother would have loved every minute. In the limo riding to the graveside service for my father-in-law, we all got silly and started laughing. I don’t remember why, but once one started giggling, we all joined in. It was a blessed, sweet release, but I know the limo driver wondered about our sense of decorum. But, in my father-in-law’s case (as for your mother), we found the joy in attending a service for a person who had a personal relationship with the Lord and was truly ready to go home to be with Him. What a blessing and a reason to truly smile (giggles allowed). What a great post, as always, Elaine. I loved it!! Thank you. 🙂
Thank you, JoAnn! Yes, the lines between sadness and joy often overlap and go back and forth. That laughter IS a sweet release. 🙂 Blessings.
I was looking for a post or message about how you were doing, and here I find you all in fits and giggles. Your mom was planning this all along, wasn’t she? Amazing. A fun send-off, at least to those who weren’t falling or getting stung :), to add to the memories.
Definitely more fun for those of us on stable footing and without bugs attacking us! And yes, perhaps Mom was planning this one. 😉 I can’t tell you how many times the thought of that service has reduced me to giggles again. Of course, there are many moments of tears as well. God allows as both as we sort through our grief. ((HUGS))
This was hysterical. Thank you for writing it and I’m sure your mom would have been entering in on the hilarity had she been able. I know mine would have! 🙂
Thank you, Crystal! It was definitely a memory we will all cherish—and laugh about! 🙂