The First Three Letters Are F-U-N

I have been to a number of funerals in recent years of people I did not know in life at all or at least very well. My presence there is not some oddly voyeuristic fetish, rather these were people who were close to people I care about very much. My goal in being there is support for the ones left. As an objective outsider, I see things in a less emotional light than many of the attendees and I have made some interesting observations.

For instance, it is plain to see whether the departed was truly loved and will be very missed, or whether the dcecedent had become a burden and in truth the family and friends are all just sort of relieved or even the body in the box was never really thought of highly by most people at all. I have witnessed all these in the past few years and can tell you the only truly sad funerals fall into the latter category.

I won't name names, but I have been to the funeral of a man who I knew was not especially well liked, or highly thought of by me or apparently most of the rest of the people present. To those who knew him, even on a tertiary basis as did I, he never really did much of anything noteworthy or benevolent or kind. To top it off, he suffered a protracted illness and was a burden in the last years if his life. The funeral had no emotion. Zip. Nada. It was awful. It was palpably terrible and very uncomfortable. But, because of his military career, at the cemetery to finish the service, there was the 21 gun solute, and the flag folding and, oh my God... Taps. Not a dry eye could be found. Unfortunately for the guy in the ground it was for love of country, not him that finally brought some emotion to his death. It was in retrospect the very saddest funeral I have ever attended.

Then there was the middle aged mother who passed away very suddenly after a fluke accident while traveling abroad. There is nothing so tragic as losing someone so full of vim. This was a Jewish funeral, which from a purely anthropological standpoint was fascinating in and of itself for me, a Christian. The service was amazing first of all because of the attendance and the grandeur of the canter's voice and the very eastern origin of the traditional music. It was astonishing in a gorgeous and grand way but had a very genuine sense of emotion and warmth. And the people who spoke were simply amazing. Truly, God was there as they fought through the pain they must have been feeling and related only their love for the wonderful life that had been taken too soon. Her brother gave a wonderful eulogy, very funny, very celebratory and very relateable. I did not know her in life, I missed the chance, but I knew her well after that service and I realized what a wonderful opportunity to be in her presence I missed.

Last year was Emily's Great Aunt Eva's funeral. It was well attended for a woman in her 90s. The women of Emily's family seems to have longevity in their genes, but their husbands burn out pretty quick. I digress. The very funniest thing that ever happened at a funeral I have attended happened when in front of the church they attendant went about closing the casket. Now, I had never seen this, nor had Emily. Typically, this is done in private, I think with only close family looking on. Well, not in the little Methodist church of Podunk or wherever the hell we were. They put the lid down and insert a long-ish crank rod, like a clock winder into the foot end of the casket which dogs the lid down tight. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. Emily either. She leaned over through minor tears and said, "What, they afraid she's gonna pop out?" At that moment, we had a shared vision, one of the music of a Jack-in-the-box and the picture of a very frail, very dead Aunt Eva popping out of the casket, dangling back and forth a little as if on a spring. It was too much. We shared with Emily's mom who joined in the barely stifled laughter.

Yesterday was Dave's Grandmother's service. It fell into the good category. Dave's words were stunning and clear with the perfect mix of humor and wisdom and, well finality. I found myself again, not having known the departed in life, but feeling privileged to have been a part of the celebration of her life.

The funny thing about life, goes the old joke, is that nobody gets out alive. The funerals are for those of us left behind, a mechanism by which to achieve closure and say goodbye and come to terms with the final truth. But what never ceases to amaze me is the difference in feeling from person to person and life to life and it makes me wonder what my funeral would be like if it was to be held today. I surely hope it would be the kind I saw yesterday, full of love and remembrances of wisdom and joy. I also sincerely hope people remember the first three letters of 'funeral' are F-U-N. Life is short, times are hard and there is no excuse for not having as much fun as you can while you're here and even for a little while after you're gone. Nobody looks at the stained drop ceiling over their deathbed and comes to the realization they wish they had worked harder.

And since I am thinking today of mortality, I have taken the time to write my own obituary.

Bill Uebbing, aged 35 went to that great backyard barbecue in the sky today to be reunited with Jesus, his Grandparents and the original lineup of Lynard Skynard. He had a lust for life, a quick, incisive wit and a foul mouth. He is survived by anyone who is reading this. His last request was to be embalmed with Maker's Mark Bourbon and have a Rocky Patel series V 25th anniversary Churchill placed in his breast pocket.
His wealth was in his ability to make people laugh, even when things were bad and to bring irreverence to things when they got too heavy.
His funeral is being held at First United Methodist Church in Grand Rapids, MI after which his remains will be chauffeured in a Lincoln hearse per his specifications ("Because Cadillacs are bougy") to a great big oven whereupon they will be reduced to ashes, with which he doesn't give a shit what you do because he is playing croquet with Harry Truman, T.S. Elliot and Phil Hartman while discussing philosophy, humor and the science of making decisions and later is sitting in on a set with Janis Joplin, Otis Redding and Mamma Cass Eliot with an appearance by special guest Jerry Garcia. Heaven, he promises is awesome and he will save you a seat!