(This is at the end of my grandmother’s funeral, just as we’re about to escort the coffin out. The immediate family gathers around to decide the pallbearers. Note that I’m six feet tall and fairly fit.)

Me: “I can be a pallbearer.”

Uncle: “No, women can’t be pallbearers.”

(The glare I sent him must have been pretty powerful, because he immediately guided me to which part he wanted me to carry.)

Last December, my great-grandma passed away after a long time in a nursing home in poor health. We knew that she would pass soon, but my family was still obviously very sad. My seven-year-old brother took it pretty hard, so my other two brothers and I tried to comfort him as best we could.

The time came for the funeral, which we had to explain a bit to my brother. It was a Catholic one, so it was held in a church and lasted a couple hours. I helped give the Eucharist, and my brothers and I helped carry the Gifts to the altar, all the while trying to convince my youngest brother that Great-Grandma wasn’t going to come back to life like you do in Minecraft. As you can imagine, we were pretty emotionally spent, and my mother and grandma were crying numerous times.

At the end of the funeral, four of the adult male family members came to help carry the coffin to the hearse. Mom was crying and holding Grandma, my aunt and uncle were holding back tears, and my cousins, siblings, and I watched quietly. Suddenly, my youngest brother walks towards the coffin and “helps” carry the coffin to the hearse, which wasn’t supposed to happen. My mother was shocked, but didn’t stop him in time before they were out the door.

Imagine being there, a ring of family members in solemn silence, suddenly laughing as their loved one is carried away! It was just so comical seeing my brother holding the coffin, right next to his very confused dad and uncle, that we couldn’t help it. That bit of comedy was just what we needed at such a sad moment in our life, and I firmly believe that God urged him to go so our great-grandma could go out with her family smiling for her and her descendants.

(My parents built their house when our suburb was still surrounded by farmland, much of which became entire suburbs of public housing in the years following. My parents tended to look down on those who had to live in public housing. I married a man who was from one of those suburbs, and as a result, my parents didn’t think much of his parents. They never said that much to them or my husband, and only things in passing to me. It’s the day of my father-in-law’s funeral. I see my parents drive past the chapel so go to meet them.)

Mum: “There aren’t many people here.”

Me: “They are all behind the chapel; you drove past them.”

Mum: “Are you sure? There were a lot of people there; I think some of them were leaving the last service.”

Me: “No, we are the first service today.”

Mum: “Oh, it must all be family, then.”

Me: “A lot of them are from the clubs he is in.”

(After the funeral, I see Mum talking to a man. I vaguely recognise his face, and as I approach, I see that he is the mayor of a nearby city.)

Mum: “[My Name], this is the mayor of [City].”

Me: “Hello, I am [My Name], wife of [Father-In-Law]’s son, [Husband]. We’ve not met yet, though I believe you know my husband.”

Mum: “What I want to know is why the mayor is attending this funeral? It’s only—”

Me: *cutting her off* “Mum! [Mayor] knew [Father-In-Law] through [Club].”

Mayor: “I am very sorry to hear of [Father-In-Law]’s passing; he’s going to be missed by a lot of people. He’s been the best treasurer that [Club] ever had.”

Mum: “He was treasurer? But…”

Me: “Yes, he was. Thank you for your kind words, but if you’ll excuse us, Dad and [brother] are waiting for [Mum] at the car.”

(I swear the mayor looked relieved as I lead Mum away.)

My family used to have a friend that came to every family event that we invited him to. He was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. He was funny, caring, and kind. The only problem with him was that he was always at least half-an-hour late. Every time we’d confront him on this issue, he would laugh it off, make a few jokes, and state, “At least I’m not late to my own funeral.”

A few years later, the friend was diagnosed with terminal cancer and given a life expectancy of a few weeks. He was also late to the appointment. When he passed, my family and his family both came together at a church for the service. We waited for nearly an hour, wondering why the funeral was taking such a long time to start, until the news came.

The hearse carrying his body got stuck in traffic due to an accident, causing the delay. After my dad passed the message, everybody looked at each other with the same thought.

He was late to his own f****** funeral.

(A close friend has recently had a family member pass away. My entire family knows this friend and has offered their condolences. One evening while I’m helping make supper, my niece comes into the kitchen, getting ready for work.)

Niece: “How’s [Friend]?”

Me: “She was okay last I heard from her, but I haven’t spoken with her today. I think she’s driving back down from Tennessee, though.”

Niece: *horrified* “Why is she in Tennessee?”

Me: “For the funeral?”

Niece: “Oh.” *she opens the fridge before scoffing* “Who lives in Tennessee?”

Me: “Well, they’re not living anymore.”