The Third Corpse Was the Charm
(F)or
I will turn their mourning into joy,
and
will comfort them,
and
make them rejoice from their sorrow
--
Jeremiah 31:13b
I have this
beautiful, funny friend who looks half her age and should be writing for the
nightly comedy shows. She is making me feel a WHOLE lot better about what's in
store for me as I get ready to venture into my golden years. It's a lot more
fun than people think.
Her name is
Sheila. Here she is, at left, with her daughter Alix (at right), and
granddaughter Caroline with great-granddaughter Isabella Josephina.
Sheila's
humor reminds me a lot of my mother-in-law's, and no wonder: they've been
friends forever. She also reminds me of my own mother, who's another golden
oldie with a hilarious way with words. For example, I once ran into Mom at a
funeral, and she shared that she had yet another one to go to that day. "It's a
double-header," she said.
These are
strong people who can find humor even in those solemn occasions of death,
funerals and memorial services. When you're a believer, death is nothing to
fear. You can help people mourn without losing perspective on what life is all
about. When you "get it" that life here on Earth is only a prelude, you can be
joyful even through all the momentary difficulties and sorrows that come your
way.
Sheila's a
person like that. Here is her latest story, in her own words. It cracks me up
and bet it will you, too:
Haven't you
ever gotten "all got up" to go to a Saturday cocktail party. . . that was actually
held on Friday?
What about
strolling into a brunch with lots of hospitable people . . . but you got the
wrong house?
Several years
ago Jim and I wanted to pay our final respects to a dear departed. "The
Viewing" (yikes!) was from 5 to 7 at the "You No Longer Have To Worry" Funeral
Home. As we entered the sanctum, Uncle Fester in his three-piece-black Armani indicated
the first door on the left.
We entered
and saw many, uh, older types who were our peers . . . but seemed not even vaguely
familiar. Of course, Uncle F. told us the wrong room. After Jim hissed at me
several times, he grabbed me by the Rush Week smile, pulled me out of the
chamber, and, naturally, blamed me for the misstep.
When we
gingerly entered the next room, I was relieved to recognize my good friend,
Nancy. After extending my awkward condolences, I asked how she knew our
deceased friend. Nancy said that they were cousins and had been like sisters
for years. With an apology for not remembering that, I edged toward the open casket
.The serene face staring up from flesh-toned satin, to no one in particular,
was definitely not our friend, Ann. (Yikes 2).
By then, we
were so flustered, I blurted out to Nancy that we did not know her cousin, were
in shock, terribly sorry, and gave her an air kiss. Nancy, holding back tears, grabbed
Jim's arm with a hammer-lock hold, and turned to the man standing next to her.
"Oh, Daddy! They didn't even KNOW Gretchen, but they came anyway. Isn't
that just the sweetest?"
Daddy was as nonplussed at the non sequitur as we were.
Well . . . the
third corpse was the charm.
After
glowering at the "greeter," Uncle Festus #3, we entered the proper
chamber, greeted the oh! so blessedly familiar family, and expressed our
sincere sorrow appropriately.
By that
time, Jim and I were pros at just the right words to say. There's no substitute
for experience. †
