How does your family handle death?

Practically every time you post, I think of the plane crash.
Insofar as the children saluting, that reminds me of the HBO film "Taking Chance."
Probably won't go over well with some members here, but I really believe every American should watch that film.

 

Well, whoever that was ... screw them.

 

Was lucky insofar as I was working for the local Podunk weekly when my parents died.
I, too, wrote their newspaper obituaries. Wrote 'em straight. Publisher refused to charge me.

 

A couple of extended family members on my dad’s side had a legendary fight when one kept going on at visitation about how the deceased’s tie tack was on crooked.

 

My best friend from high school's dad died in March and a memorial mass was held in April, which me and my wife drove home for. Gene was like a second father to me. Any time I stopped by when they were eating, he fixed a plate for me and demanded I sit and eat with them. If he was taking Mike and Ryan (his brother) somewhere it was always "Call BYM2 and tell him we're picking him up." This one really hit me hard because no one told me he was as bad as he was and every time I wanted to go and see him he wasn't doing well. I started to get the idea of how bad he was when they told me he was in a nursing home.

So, we get to the church -- a Catholic parish I grew up attending church and school at -- and the priest immediately mentions that, while this is indeed a sad occasion, people would need to be leaving immediately after because they had another funeral mass immediately after. A death that, "while Gene's was sad, this one was sadder because they died tragically." I sat in the pew, straightening my tie and thinking, "I'm pretty cynical but that's a pretty fucked up thing to say."

He then referenced the upcoming funeral again (It was two teens killed on a dirt bike). And then again. At this point, my wife -- who also was raised attending Catholic church and school -- turned to me and said, "this guy is really bad at this."

After the service let out, friends and family were milling about to give condolences to Mike and Ryan and their mother. The Priest was making his way through as well, again hinting that we should be hitting the road since the 11:30 a.m. funeral would be arriving soon.

I'd gone 15 years without stepping in that church, and only did it in 2009 because my cousin was getting married. It wouldn't bother me to never step foot in it again.

 

Crossthread here, but I think my fuse would run completely the fuck out in that situation, BYM2.

 

I will grudgingly pony up for a local newspaper obit. It's for history. In 500 years, I seriously doubt that anyone will be searching for me, but I want that I lived in the record. My wife and I actually have a single grave in a church cemetery where we will put a stone with both of our names on there. We won't be there because we will both be cremated, and I want my ashes scattered. I just want my name on a rock where someday someone might say "That guy lived."
We don't have kids, so when I'm gone, I'm gone. I have actually done a couple of things where my name and picture will be on some walls and in books simply because after I am go, that's my legacy.

 

My best friend’s father passed last summer and I went home for the funeral. The fucking minister called him the wrong name for three-quarters of the service.

That was when my friend’s brother loudly and angrily corrected him mid-sermon, and then stormed the fuck out.

 

It was one of those situations where we were cool in the church...
we were cool in the reception line with family...
we were cool walking through the parking lot...
We were cool getting IN the car...
But the second the final car door slammed shut it was, "What the FUCK was that guy's deal?" "That was terrible..." "I've never seen a eulogy like..." "That was so inappropriate...." "And you wonder why I don't..."

 

The jackleg preacher I referenced above repeatedly called my dead uncle by my dad’s name, with dad very much in attendance. Finally my Aunt Pam, who had selected the guy in the first place, blurted out that the deceased was Billy. So that was slightly awkward.

Pam died this winter and sure enough left instructions for this dolt to preach the funeral. And he had the nerve to do the “remember when” bit with my dad, the oldest of four who had just lost his last sibling.

 

You wouldn’t think preachers are more socially awkward than journalists, but here we are.

 

When my mother died, my devastated father didn't think twice about paying the obscene obit rates (being of that age group where obits and newspapers were a must). Then the paper got her name way wrong - not these names, but the rough equivalent of saying Marjorie instead of Marilyn. He called the paper and they re-ran it correctly, then on the day of the funeral, where they do the little reminder of today's funeral services, got the name wrong again.

I waited a few days, and after traveling back home, called and got the publisher on the phone. I explained everything, and finally said, "Do you know how many people at the visitation made reference to 'the stupid fucking newspaper that can't even get a name correct in an obit' and how disrespectful that is?"

Wasn't his fault, but for those prices, and in the emotional aftermath of it all, I wanted to get my pound of flesh wherever I could get it. He couldn't wait to get off that call.