Creampuff Condolences

As noted in my previous post, my good friend Reol suffered a loss last week and her mom’s funeral with this Friday. I have been fortunate thus far in my life to have attended but a handful of funerals. Some people seem to have been born knowing what to do or say in these times of trial and I have often wished that I was one of them. I know that somewhere out there, some kind soul has written a book, or at least a good article on funeral etiquette, but I thought that, as an unhabitual funeral goer, I would offer some helpful tips on appropriate behaviour for the socially inept like myself.

* You may not think of yourself as a “cryer". You are probably wrong. I, for example, thought I would be too morally indignant to cry at my cousin’s extremely Catholic wedding. I was therefore caught off-guard when I started to tear up and was forced to ask my aunt for a kleenex. The only one she had was old, crumbling and scrunched up in the bottom of her purse. I shook off the pencil shavings, but nearly inhaled an Altoid. My point is, have the kleenex ready BEFORE things get under way. Don’t wait until the deeply moving, yet funny eulogy to rip open the loud velcro of your bag to get to the goods.

* If you don’t know the whole family well - or even if you do - don’t be saying things like “At least she’s in a better place.” You might really believe that - THEY might really believe that - but chances are they don’t wanna hear it from you today.

* “My mom died” trumps “my pantyhose are chafing". Let it go.

* The kneeler - not a footrest.

* Don’t ask the grieving family if they “got your Christmas card".

* Laughing in the church is okay in certain contexts. A family member tells a humourous yet touching story about their loved one - okay to laugh. Some guy interrupting the sermon with a cough that sounds like “SHANTZ! SHANTZ! SHANTZ!” - not okay to laugh. Until later.

* Don’t assume that because YOU are starving, your girlfriend must also be starving and then make her walk all over downtown Brampton 15 minutes before the service looking for a muffin. She’s NOT hungry and you should have eaten more at breakfast. You silly twat.

* The eucharist - not a tasty snack. Besides, who needs a snack that bleeds when you chew it? Bring trail mix instead.

* The reception is not the time and place for a long, intimate chat with the bereaved. They’re really touched and happy you came - they don’t want to know about how your orthodics are making you walk funny. Seriously - have a drink. Admire the koi.

* There is no “right” thing to say. Depending on your relationship with the family, you can even get away with something like “Man . . . SHITTY", followed by a hug. There are, however, several WRONG things to say.

* Even if you haven’t been in touch for awhile prior to shittiness striking, it’s okay to send a sympathy card. As our friend Sura said on Friday, “No one will think less of you for caring.” They WILL, however, think less of you if your card has a crying kitten and a rose on it. Think “simple".

Reol and I have been friends for nearly 10 years now and we’ve seen each other through varying degrees of shittiness but this definitely takes the cake. She and I talk sometimes about how we’ve come along way since university, where we met - we occasionally reminisce about pulling all-nighters to finish projects, sharing the same scuzzy, be-vermined bathroom with 30 people, employing questionable hair care practices. 10 years later, we’re both in awfully lovely relationships, we live in nice apartments and, most importantly, we’ve grown as people. On Friday morning, however, when I got up at 5 a.m. to finish a draft that was due at 11, squished a silverfish when I stepped out of the hotel shower and then proceeded to cut my bangs with Katr’s nail clippers, it occurred to me that in some ways, maybe not so much has changed after all. But for sure, some things will never be the same.