Needed: funny human stories in memory of the deceased

My paternal grandmother loved to have the family over for dinner. Near the end of hte meal, she'd patter into the kitchen and return with a pot containing a small amount of whatever was being served. She'd pop up at your elbow as you finished eating, say, "Do you want some of this?" and, even if you answered NO, she would scrape the last 8 or 9 green beans (or last 3 peach halves or whatever) on to your plate, explaining, "I don't want to have leftovers and I want to clean the pan now." Stubborn woman. Lots of these types of stories were told when the family came back to my Dad's house right after the funeral. We laughed ourselves silly after weeping through the funeral Mass.

A friend of my husband's played American football. He was a huge fellow. In college, one time the coach sent him to keep the ball back at any cost. He lined up on defense, then at the proper time ran toward two fellows who had been close to the ball at the snap. Not knowing which one had the football, he hefted them both off the ground, swiveled his head to find the one carrying the pigskin tucked under his arm, let drop the other one, and proceeded with his tackle. My husband told this story at Big Dan's wake, doing all the movements, and got a lot of laughs. Big Dan also had a NASCAR emblem on his coffin (American Racing Car number), which I hear is not uncommon in the South.

My mom died of a very silent killer, ovarian cancer. Not a damned thing funny about that. But my family is a little strange, and when the time came to decide what to inscribe on her tombstone, we kids remembered her going from doc to doc trying to get anyone to listen to her health complaints. By the time some bright gyn figured it out, it was too late. So we suggested putting "I told you I was sick" on the headstone. My Dad, in a fit of common sense, declined to do so.

HTH - Hope This Helps

Thanks. Those are just the kind of thing I'm looking for.

but my dead guy is an accountant, so I'm not sure I can make him into the footballer. And he was murdered, so your proposed epitaph for your mother won't work either. but thanks.

and sorry about your mom. I was in grade school when my best friend's mom died. I remember being shocked at first when everyone told funny stories about her, and then realizing that love allows for laughter. But I've forgotten what was funny then.

any more stories? Anyone?

Hi

I remember at a friend's funeral, discussing songs we used to play (we were in a band) and bad gigs we'd had. Also how we knew Chick, funny stories he'd told us.

One story was about how he was stony broke (as usual) but with just a fiver left to buy some beers, so he went to the beer shop. As he was there, 2 hoodlums in balaclavas came in, one with a baseball bat and one with a can of mace - one waved the bat at Chick, whilst the other threatened the lady shop keeper with the mace, to get her to open the till. As this was happening, the shop keeper's husband came out, saw what was happening, and picked up some bottles of alco-pops and started throwing them at the hoodlums, who fled. As they reached the door, one of the bottles hit one of the hoodlums on the head, who - Chick said - turned around really upset almost with tears in his eyes before running out of the door and away. He realised that they were not big grown up thugs but only young teenage kids. And all the time, Chick said he was thinking "please don't take my fiver, please don't take my fiver..."!

Driving to the funeral, I didn't see anyone I knew, so went into the church on my own (funerals are lonely places on your own). However I saw another member of the band (Frank) walking back down the road as I was driving away to the crematorium and stopped and started talking to him. It turned out he didn't have a car so wasn't going to the crematorium but was pleased to have a lift (along with another ex-band member - Frankie - we saw), so we ended up with all 3 of us driving to the crematorium for the service, exchanging Chick stories (as above), and the warmth and humour we shared in that car was fantastic. I was really glad that I had seen Frank and Frankie, as I could easily have missed them; and I really needed them there with me, that day. I think it helped them too.

We joked that Chick would've loved to have been there with us as well, he'd have enjoyed the vibe. At the funeral, as the crowd filed out, the three of us walked over to the coffin and placed our hands on it, as a kind of goodbye. I've not done that at funerals before or since, but it just seemed natural to do so then.

Chick's son played electric guitar at the funeral, really sweetly and sensitively, for a young teenaged lad during what must have been a terrible time for him personally - a very brave thing for him to do. The family were - and still are - lovely people, very warm and pleased to see everyone; hugs and kisses all around which was lovely as I wasn't sure if I'd see anyone I knew, or if they'd have time to speak to me, but I wanted to go anyway and pay my respects. But they did, and it was nice to say goodbye in such fine company.

I still have some lo-fi recordings of me and Chick playing together - which are a dreadful sound quality and almost unlistenable but I can't bear to destroy them.

Jon

Thanks for the story. Sorry about your friend. Sounds like a real person with a lot of heart (and humor).

Huh. My whole novel is a comedy about a funeral.

EricH

My great-grandmother would send each of the great-grandkids $5 in McDonald's gift certificates every year for Christmas (there were a lot of us). My junior year of high school, I worked at McDonald's. That Christmas, she sent me a $5 bill instead, with a note saying she understood if I'd like to eat somewhere else.

EricH--I can imagine it's a riot!

Konk--cute grandmother.

My father died at the age of 75. His mother outlived him (and all her other children)--she lived to the age of 104. I sat between my mother and grandmother in the limousine/hearse for the ride from my dad's funeral to the grave. All I remember was my grandmother saying things (I've temporarily blocked out what) and her comments drove my mother crazy.. (Generally they got along quite well, but you know...) I think my grandmother was commenting on dad's choice of wife! And possibly her other children. It was a long ride, during which my mother kept grabbing my elbow and hissing retorts at me.

When I got out of the limo/hearse, the driver took me aside and just smiled at me, then said "you're doing a good job."

It was that crazy.

My dad was a minister, and the local funeral parlor director used to call him whenever someone died who had no other religious connections because my dad was pretty good at meeting with the family for a few minutes and pulling some little bits of info out of them and then putting together a funeral service which mentioned personal things about the deceased. He was so good at this that people who were attending the funeral would often go up to Dad afterwards and say "How many years did you know him?" and Dad would mumble something nice so he didn't have to say "I never heard of him before he died". Even the family members that Dad had gotten the info from were impressed, as he did it so smoothly that they often didn't even notice that he was doing it amongst their gentle reminiscing.

One time, Dad got a guy who, his family said loved model trains, was a practical joker, and wasn't shy about embarassing people or doing things to shake them up. So, when it came time to start the service, Dad whipped out a conductors cap, put it on his head, and hollered "TOOT TOOT! I'm on my way, God!!". Needless to say, many people who were attending were shocked to see the minister, in his black suit and with the white collar, do this. Several people were on the verge of being offended and storming out when the dead man's adult children burst into laughter and applause and called out "That's JUST what Dad would have done!!!" My father went on to do a lovely funeral, and the children were delighted that he managed to capture the spirit of their father so well.

Anonygrl--TOO FUNNY!

My father's name was "John". I never knew this about him in all my 21 years of life (he passed away in January) but when we were having our wake (it's our tradition to drink and tell funny stories about the deceased on the eve after they die)... Well, his brothers and sisters were all there...

Now I won't share any of the many hilarious stories, but I will tell you that my esteemed and upright father didn't used to be so esteemed. Or upright. He wasn't known as John, either- everyone called him "Mad Jack". I mean it; come to find out my uncles and aunts still called him "Mad Jack". The stories always started, 'Did I tell you the time Mad Jack...?' Except for his oldest brother, who called him "Johnnie".

Hilarity. HILARITY!

~soma