Sitting in the waiting room of my Dermatologists office one day, I noticed a funeral happening across the street in the cemetery.  As I’m watching, I notice an ambulance lights and siren a blaze, come zooming down the street from the hospital.  Which is also next to the cemetery.  A little unnerving I know, but it an excellent hospital.  As it gets closer, I think to myself, “Man you’re a little late, were already holding a funeral here.” Then I feel like the world’s biggest ass when the ambulance turns into the cemetery and I see them assisting someone, living, into the back of it. 

The whole thing got me thinking about funerals though. Like most everyone I know, I’ve never been a big fan of funerals.  I always feel awkward, like is it okay to smile?  Am I smiling too much?  What on earth do you say to the family? How long should you hang around? It’s just a hard thing to get through. 

Back in college my bestie from high school lost her grandfather.  We’ll call her A.  A gave me a call and told me she was coming back to our home town for the funeral and asked if I would meet up with her and come to the visitation.  Of course I would, I would do anything for her.  I loved her family and really liked her grandfather.  So I got the day off from work and drove back home.  Now I’m from a small town and there are only three funeral homes.  I had failed to ask my friend which one her grandfather was at. This was also in a faraway time before cell phones were commonplace.  Hard to remember right?  If only I could’ve sent a quick text, the following would have never happened. 

It was a cold February afternoon, but I remember the sun shining cheerfully.  I had made it to my parents’ house in record time and had enough time to change and freshen up before I needed to leave for the visitation.  My oldest sister was home visiting from Seattle and hanging out with my parents that day.  “Mom, what funeral home is grandpa S at?  I forgot to ask A.”

“I’m not sure, let me check the paper.” Mom said. 

“There are only three in town, just drive by until you recognize someone.” said my sister.  As logical as this sounded, I didn’t want to waste time doing that. 

“I can’t find it, but I’m pretty sure it’s at the funeral home by the middle school.” said my mom. 

So off I went.  I found a parking spot somewhat close, which was a miracle because this funeral home was packed. As I’m making my way up the cracked and uneven sidewalk, there are a bunch people standing outside in circles chatting, by the glass front doors.  I recognized a few people, but was a little confused as to how they knew this man. As I mentioned, this is a town of 7k people, so the chances of recognizing someone is pretty good.  Oddly enough they were giving me the same confused look as I walked on by.  Whatever, I thought to myself, I needed to find my friend.  I made my way into the giant pea green waiting room and looked around.  It was your typical funeral home.  Nicely decorated with peaceful looking paintings, lots of Kleenex boxes and candles.  I scanned the room, but I couldn’t quite locate anyone from her family.  I’m getting a little apprehensive but I start walking towards the chapel.  There are people crying and hugging all around me. Again, looking at me strangely and then I completely understand why they are. 

I made it up to the doors of the chapel and there was a giant poster sized picture of the dearly departed.  I had no idea who this man was.  I instantly broke out into a cold sweat and felt my cheeks flush.  Holy shit, I’m at the wrong visitation. I caught my breath and slowly turned around to walk out as casually as I could when I felt someone gently touch my hand.  I turned back to see who it was and yet again I don’t have any clue who this person is. 

“Thank you so much for coming today.  It’s so nice of you to be here.” said a lady in a sweet and defeated voice. She was a small older lady with kind eyes and to my embarrassment, she was none other than the widow.  This I deciphered from the pictures of his family on the table next to us.  I was frozen, absolutely still, with no idea what to do or say.  Do I tell the truth? “Whoops, wrong place sorry for your loss!” and then run like hell?  Or do I just play this out? Well, I went with the little white angel on my shoulder and played it out as best as I could even though I wanted to bolt.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I said.  “He was a great man.” Now I have no idea why I said that.  The less I say, the safer I am.  Who knows, this guy could’ve been a total ass.  “Have you had a chance to see him yet?” she looked up at me with her big brown eyes that bore into my soul.  “Sorry, no I have not. I’ll let family go in first.” My last feeble desperate attempt to get out of there had failed.  She gave me a small smile and then placed her arm lovingly around my shoulders and we were moving.  Moving down the aisle in the chapel.  Moving down the aisle in the chapel towards the casket.  We were almost down to the casket when she stopped and gave me a squeeze then turned and sat with someone in the pew.  So here I’m standing a few feet from the casket.  I numbly walk forward to look in and there he laid peacefully. “Hi, so I’m Traci.  We haven’t officially met, but it looks like there are a lot of people here that love you, so that’s good.  Your wife is very nice, so good job on that I guess, okay then. Take care!” I whispered to him.  I wait a few seconds to make it look a little more meaningful and pretended to wipe my eyes.   I turn around and overt my gaze from everyone and walk back out the way I came in.  When that cool burst of air hit my face from the outside, I couldn’t have been more grateful. 

When I got back to my parents’ house I was livid.

“You sent me to the wrong funeral home!” I yelled as I entered the house. My parents and sister were standing in the kitchen with the funniest look on their faces.  A mix of horror and is it okay to laugh?  Well laugh they did.  So much so that they were crying and doubling over.  I’m standing there completely pissed and then I can’t help but smile and next thing I know I’m laughing with them at the absurdity of it all.  I wasn’t about to go funeral crashing again so we searched for the newspaper and finally found the correct information. 

I found the right place and joined my friend and her family.  After the visitation I took my friend down to the bar for a beer.  I love small town bars, a beer for $2 dollars? Yes please! After I told A of my adventures earlier in the day, we had a good laugh and decided to call it a day and go home.  The waitress handed over a $4 tab and I gave her my debit card. “I got this round.” I playful bantered. 

“Yeah, we don’t take cards.  Just cash.” said our expressionless waitress.  A and I bust out laughing and then stopped when we realized no one else thought this was funny but us.  “Okay we can walk over to the bank, they have to have an ATM. It’s just across the street. We’ll be right back.” I said.

“Sorry we can’t let you leave without paying your tab…” she said without blinking.

“We don’t have cash..” said A angrily.

“May I at least, use your phone to call someone?” I said.  See how many times a cell phone would have saved the day back then? They let me use their phone and I called my mom to bail me out. She has never let me live that one down.  It’s not every day you call your mother to settle your bar tabs.  And if you do, I’m pretty sure you have a whole other set of problems. 

Let this be a cautionary tale to you my friends.  Always make sure you have the right info and carry cash.