Good Morning.
Funerals often do not bring out the best in people - the ones who, admittedly under a great deal of stress, have to do the planning. I was a church organist for several years and saw families go haywire in their efforts to bid a proper farewell
to a loved one.
The most memorable situation involved a recently deceased, elderly gentleman who had once been married to a Catholic
with whom he had several children, all Catholic. The wife had gone on to her reward at a fairly young age, and the guy had
later married a Presbyterian, with whom he also had several children, all Presbyterian. When he passed, the Catholic
children wanted a Catholic funeral conducted by their uncle who was a priest, and the Presbyterians graciously went
along with it, except they wanted to be seated in the front pews because they were the more immediate survivors. The widow also had a favorite hymn, "Whispering Hope", that she wanted sung by the congregation as the casket was being carried down the aisle. The problem was, it wasn't in the Catholic hymnal. No matter, she said, she wanted "Whispering Hope", and she and her family were gonna have the front pews. The wrangling went on for two days until I had a light bulb. I suggested that I simply play "Whispering Hope" at some point during the services. "Oh yes," the widow exclaimed with relief and decided that instead of having a final, sung hymn, I could play "Whispering Hope" as a quieter send-off. The priest was okay with it and the plan was put in place. I also floated the idea that the Presbyterians take the front pews on the left and the Catholics the front pews on the right where the pall bearers would normally sit. This mixed bag of the deceased's friends that included his poker group agreed to sit behind the Catholics and were the most cooperative people I encountered.
When my stepmother passed, there were no instructions about what she wanted, but we ended up with a splendid service
during which the minister read a passage from "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" because she said she'd always wanted to be a gull, not one that hung out near the garbage cans, she insisted, but a more inspired bird that followed the ships to sea. My cousin showed up in a purple sports coat that stood out a bit among the black and navy blue, but Jonathan and I thought it was fabulous. When my father went, we also had no idea what he wanted, but we put together our thoughts about his camping trips with canned stew and ravioli, his collection of road maps, and his skiing at an age when he got lift tickets for free. His eulogy, like that of his second wife, was personal and even somewhat humorous. The deal is to smile through the tears - and please leave instructions about what you want for your fine self.
Best Regards,
Elisabeth
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