Attending fun-erals

You enter a funeral chapel, holding a Mass card, ready to condole and sympathize with the grieving family. But you notice that there is no one in the chapel who looks familiar to you.

You: “How come I don’t see anyone I know?”

A grieving relative who approaches you:  “Thank you for coming.  Are you a friend of my late father?”

You: “Is your father the late Mariano de la Vista?”

Grieving relative: “Yes, he was.”   

You decide to check the casket again. “Hmm, the body looks so different from the Mariano that I know.  Mariano was bald while this one has a full crop of hair.  Could I have gone to the wrong wake or is he wearing a toupee?”

Realizing your mistake, you hastily make an exit. “But what will I do with this Mass card for Mariano de la Vista?” A voice replied, “Give it anyway. It’s the same name and no one would know that you meant it for another Mariano.” And so you do, laughing your socks off in total confusion.

Another time, I was so eager to take the hand of the widow that I blurted out “Congratulations” instead of “Condolences.” I was red in the face out of sheer embarrassment.

What about the time when a friend finally won a case against her philandering husband who refused to give her alimony after a messy legal separation? The husband was ordered by the court to hand over the bulk of his assets to his wife.  A week passed and the husband died of a massive heart attack. Luckily, the legal papers were signed, notarized and scheduled for immediate implementation. This made my friend the legal heir and, significantly, a “merry” (and rich) widow.

At the wake, her girlfriends lined up to condole (uh, celebrate?) with her. Each one was humming a gleeful tune while wearing a wide grin on her face. When my turn came, I hugged her and giggled, “How can you be so lucky?” It was the happiest funeral that I had ever witnessed.

 At a party, I saw the husband of our late classmate. I immediately alerted Matilde, another classmate, who missed the funeral. “Don’t look now, but at your three o’clock, he is approaching our table. Now, remember, his name is Jimmy and he is the husband of our dead, as in d-e-a-d classmate, Stephanie.  “Of course naman ano?” assured Matilde. “Trust me.” 

True enough, Jimmy sat at our table. I greeted him and turned to my other friend. “Jimmy, do you remember Matilde? She just arrived from abroad so she missed the last rites.” Jimmy smiled and stood up to greet Matilde.

Matilde took Jimmy’s hand and said, “Oh, I’m so happy to meet you Jimmy. By the way, how is Stephanie?” Bog, bog, bog — my jaw dropped and I gaped in horror.

You must have heard about the dozen thieves who stole from the major casinos. To confuse the pursuing casino owners and the police, they stashed the cash inside the casket of a dead colleague with the intention of retrieving the loot before the burial.  At the wake, the thieves sat next to each other. When a peculiar noise broke the solemnity of the final rites, one thief asked another thief, “What is that grinding noise?” The same question was passed on down the long pew until the last one seated in the same pew replied, “They’re cremating the body.” Poof!  Their heist went literally up in smoke.  This was the funniest scene of Ocean’s Eleven (the original one) that starred my favorite saloon singer, Frank Sinatra, and his crazy bunch called the Rat Pack.

Another movie on friends and funerals ended with the best friend reciting a tribute to his fallen friend: the poem “Stop all the Clocks” by W. H. Auden:

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

May we all end up on a high, exciting note, singing and celebrating the beginning of a new life, full of happy, never endings.

But, just not yet.