The Pearce family has always loved a good funeral. Not meaning any disrespect to my clan because we certainly grieve the loss of our loved one. But there are always plenty of stories, good ole remembering right into the marrow of the soul, and lots of healing laughter. One of my earliest memories is my grampa’s funeral where I saw grown folks crying and witnessed weeping and wailing that was mesmerizing. I had no idea grown people could act that way. And that was comforting all on its own.
And there was no shortage of good food to share. Fried chicken and deviled eggs, of course, and somebody’s homemade pickles. The pies were remarkable – meringues so high they could practically touch the sky. And, Lord! The gossip and giggling that went on in the kitchen – maybe turned down just a notch from the usual – but warm and comforting all the same.
And people pouring out of everywhere – strewn throughout the house, every room, on the porches and all over the yard. It was like a family reunion only there were friends and church folks there, too. The whole scene filled up your heart and made you forget to be sad for a little while.
My Aunt Rena would invariably remark at every single Pearce funeral on her own demise which she always predicted would be soon – probably by the next holiday. She was wrong, however, and lived to be 96. And when we gathered to celebrate her life my cousin said, meaning no disrespect, “I sure hate Aunt Rena’s not here. She’d be having the best time.”
In my seven decades I’ve been to a multitude of funerals. Some have been somber affairs – so quiet I hardly dared to breathe. Some have been spectacular in attendance. Some have been so dramatic they could have been on the big screen. Some have been so utterly sad they left me feeling wrung out and completely exhausted. My favorites have been those that made me laugh through my tears and happy to have known that such a person lived and that I’d been privileged to know them.
The weirdest funeral ever was my poor father in law’s. Being the “out-law” I had nothing to say about any of it – including the fact that my house was designated as the center of action and so everyone piled in with fried chicken and pies. The man had been a pilot in his younger years – his glory days. He was an adoring grandfather and a friendly soul. And yet my mother in law decreed there would be no eulogy – not one word spoken of the man or the life he lived. Even though three ministers showed up and offered to conduct the service they were each assigned to read scripture – one from the Bible’s Old Testament, one from the New Testament, and one from the Book of Psalms. Period. The end. And no special music – no singing. It was the most uncomfortable I have ever been in public. The whole thing was just plain weird. Of course, my mother in law had her reasons but even so…….well, let’s just say it was sadder than any tears that could have been shed.
My best friend’s funeral was orchestrated from beginning to end by her own sweet self – every bit of music, every song, every speaker – and one of them was ME. She had even reviewed my eulogy prior to her death. (no kidding. She really did) And I must say I was relieved that she mostly approved it – only one minor edit. It still makes me laugh. I told her that I was going to have my daughter read it and my friend said “absolutely not!” I was to read it myself. When I argued that I didn’t think I could deliver it without tears she said, quite emphatically, “Just say you’re going to do it and then do whatever you need to. I won’t ever know.” And so, I agreed and, in the end, I delivered it myself because, somehow, I thought she might know. I mean anyone who can plan their entire service from beginning to end might just show up to see how it goes off, right? (thank god for Xanax)
Nowadays funerals seem to happen more often than they used to. I guess it’s my age. I’ve even thought about my own and though I doubt I’ll be planning it from start to finish I am thinking about letting my kids know a couple of songs that I think would be nice. Mostly I hope there’s good food and lots of laughter and good remembering. I hope it’s one my Aunt Rena would enjoy.
ARTiculation 
I so agree with you on this – people need to be able to laugh as well as cry as they say goodbye.
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Yes. I believe that funerals can be a path to healing.
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Funerals should be a celebration! It is the celebration of the person that is no longer there physically but will remain forever tucked gently in our hearts and in our memories.
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I totally agree. I hope mine is a humdinger!
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I love this & felt like I was standing with you…& @ one I was. You are The Wordsmith, my friend & I love you.
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You are always so kind and supportive. But then you’re my very best friend in the whole world – so, of course you are. I love you right back!
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My husband & I just updated our will. The paperwork came in yesterday’s mail for our approval. Your post is timely to me.
Growing up, Southern funerals were exactly as you described … family, friends, food & laughter among the tears. I use to think it odd but with maturity I realized it was just what you said … a means of sharing sorrow, deepest respect & love all at the same time.
My step sister died way too soon with Parkinson’s. She had a lovely voice & hoped to make a career with it but marriage & kids squashed that dream as she worked to help her husband complete his college degrees & sent her kids out into the world to their best lives. She enjoyed her talents by doing summer stock & traveling with that & taking her family with her. She also did a number of local TV commercials. She was at peace with that.
She wrote her own obituary, hitting lightly on her career aspirations & accomplishments & heavily on family. She was the bravest person I’ve known.
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I suppose funerals, death and dying is on many minds that are our age. But it is not entirely a bad thing to ponder. Thank you for sharing the story of your sister.
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I loved this. I spoke of John’s memorial service as being a good one, and your definition fit it perfectly. We had a magician, too, the one I’ve just written about who lives at Woodside. My parents’ funerals were in West Tennessee, where people instinctively know how to celebrate and remember a loved one. I wish I had known your aunt.
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I am not surprised that John’s service was a good one as you and your family seems like the sort of folks other folks like knowing. I love that you had a magician there! 😀
You would have loved my Aunt Rena – she was a real character!
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I wish I could have met Aunt Rena.
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You’ve got me thinking about funerals. And the thought that comes to mind is this: Life’s too short! If I were in charge, everybody would be healthy and live to 100 minimum.
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Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ll cross my fingers that you will be put in charge of that very thing. 🙂
Actually, what I’d hoped to hear from you is what music you think would be cool. I know you love a good tune and I figured you might have some great suggestions. Plus I like your taste. One that I know for sure I want is Van Morrison’s song, “Into the Mystic”. He has some other very spiritual songs that I like as well – one of them being “Transformation”. Anywho – I’d love to hear your thoughts…….well, if you’re not too depressed.
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Hi Linda. I’m not a religious person. Here’s one of my favorite songs, though. California Stars:
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Thanks for sharing your favorite song 🎶 I have never heard it but liked it and will listen again. Your musical taste is wide.
I do not consider myself a religious person. However, I acknowledge my spiritual self through meditation and music on a daily basis. I believe the Divine exists in everyone and everything. It certainly expresses through music.
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You are a good writer! Best to you always.
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Thank you so much, Celia. That is quite a compliment from a writer of your caliber.
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My Mom has her entire funeral planned right down to the music, what goes in her obituary in the paper, the music at the church and so on. We are so different, cremate me and bury me. Lol
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I think it’s a control thing. And it just gives some people a sense of peace – thinking it’s a way to take care of things for their families.
But I’m with you. Just do whatever
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