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Modern Funerals And The Lost Art Of Avoidance

 I hate funerals.

Of course there is nothing to love about them, although I remember a couple of English War Bride Aunts who enjoyed them as a social event. They showed up everywhere, for the show, the chinwag, and probably the free lunch.

Myself, I avoid the services at all costs. There are, of course, reasons to go, and funerals that can't be avoided. The last two I attended were non-religious events, that served beer. How could I refuse. And of course there are family events that one is obligated to attend, even if it's to quickly sign the register, and then hide in the basement, as far away from the proceedings as possible.

I have been a pall bearer twice. They were amongst the most uncomfortable times in my life. I have also ushered a few times. I sucked at it. How could I ever recommend a good seat when my body and soul wants to crawl into my church basement hidey hole.

Part of my avoidance of funerals is something I have mentioned to people in person and on social media before. I have never minded the sour looks and expressions of disbelief after my statement because what I  have stated is the truth.

"In my life I have mourned dogs who have left more than most people."

Please understand that I said most people.

 

We recently had a family tragedy. My cousins four year old Grand Daughter was killed in the stupidest accident any one could imagine. (I won't go on about this, but be advised that despite my funeral hating hard heart, the loss of a child breaks me down to an oozing pile of mush)

This would have been a funeral I would have been obligated to attend if it was local, but because it was in Ontario chances of me going were nil to nil. I was off the hook. Or so I Thought. Modern technology reared its ugly head when another cousin texted me.

"I'm sending you the link so you can watch the funeral. It's very long."

Thanks. (Sarcasm)

 

That was two days ago. I have yet to look the video, though I know I should watch at least part of it so that when she asks me if  I watched it, and she will, I won't have to tell her a total lie.

"Yes. Sad. Really sad." 

Only a part lie. 

 I know that when I watch in the privacy of home I will see a family and their friends and loved ones living through shock and heartbreak. A lost child. Jeezus! I can't imagine. 

I will be a puddle for sure. Maybe my feelings are not as iron coated tough as I pretend that they are, but at least in the privacy of home nobody will know. Except the dogs. They know everything.

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