For those who have been to a funeral...

[athornontherose]

What's it like? I am currently writing a story that at first takes place in a funeral setting, yet I have never been to a funeral. I always feel like in order to write about a setting I have to literally feel myself inside of the setting.

Will you guys please help me out? How is it different from what it is like the movies? How is it physically, emotionally, spiritually, etc...I know that most of you probably don't enjoy discussing this subject, but please tell me what you can and be as descriptive as possible.

Thanks in advance to those who respond.

[Amry]

The last funeral I went to was for someone I didn't know well - my great-grandfather. I was, I think, eleven or twelve when he died, on Saint Patrick's Day. I'd heard endless stories about him and had stayed with him a few times, but I didn't know him well - to me he was just an old, blind, Lithuanian man who lived in Texas and made awesome potato pancakes and played the clarinet beautifully and almost shared my little sister's birthday.

The funeral, for me, wasn't so much about my grief - even though I was sad - than it was about the grief of my grandmother and great aunts and uncles, his children. My great-grandma died when I was very little, so he was all they had left. My great-uncle, who's a priest, said the funeral Mass, and I didn't start crying until he had to stop the benediction to turn away from the altar and sob. He had to stop more than once, and the sound of his crying echoing in the silent church was the worst thing I'd ever heard. At the end, Grandma turned to me and whispered, "We're orphans now. Old orphans, but orphans nonetheless." It scared me to think about it.

Since we're Catholic, we had a wake the day before the funeral. That was both better and worse than the funeral. Somehow I was able to believe he was dead and even let go a little when I saw him laid out for us, looking pretty okay and very neat and peaceful. I touched his hand to say goodbye - yeah, I was, like, eleven, so a little part of it was "Ooh, I get to touch a dead person," but as soon as I stepped toward the coffin there were no stupid, immature thoughts going through my head anymore. Like with the funeral, the hardest part was seeing the grief of the people around me, the ones who'd known him in more than just stories and a couple of short visits to his trailer in the desert. Seeing that much pain on the face of someone you love is a hard thing to deal with at any age, but I was a young kid and I'd never seen it before.

I took comfort from little, tiny things. Flipping through the Bible in the funeral home and landing on a favorite verse by accident. Looking at the calendar and realizing Great-Grandpa's funeral was on the Feast of St. Joseph, patron saint of a peaceful death. Getting a pretty necklace from Grandma, so I could remember him and the day he went to God. I didn't really get it at that age; it wasn't his death that made me cry, but what his death did to the people around me. I felt a little dumb for crying at first, actually, just because I hadn't known him and I felt like I was encroaching on the grief of people who actually had a reason to hurt. But my uncle told me through his tears that it was okay, that it was a funeral and this would help everyone let him go.

...Wow. I didn't think I remembered that much of it, but it all came back really clear. Hope that helps.

[becca]

The last funeral I went to was for my best friend, who died last year. It was not at all like the movies; I was expecting to break down, and cry so hard that I wouldn't be able to give the eulogy. But it wasn't like that. I think the reactions of people were based on personal emotions, but for me, I wasn't sad at the time. I was just numb. I didn't feel much of anything.
To put it into better terms, I didn't feel anything that I didn't think I was supposed to. I felt sympathy for her family, anger for the disease that killed her, etc. But I felt those things because I knew I was supposed to, not because I was ready to.

I felt numb, as I said, but also out of place. I was 15 years old, I shouldn't have been at my 14-year-old best friend's funeral. It wasn't right. I can't say that it made me angry or sad at the time (although it did later and still does today), but it made me almost sick to my stomach because I felt so confused and dazed, like I was having some sort of out-of-body experience. Standing up there giving the eulogy didn't feel like I was talking about my best friend; I felt like I was talking about an aquaintance, or someone I felt no emotional attachment to.

Though I've only had that one funeral that affected me so deeply and personally, I can say that it was nothing like that movies make it out to be (for me anyway). It was like falling into some deep pit that I couldn't climb out of, and not being able to feel. I was lost.

[cobaltwolf92]

The last funeral I went to was for my grandpas. it was 4 or 5 years ago and i was 11 i at the time i believe. i didn't really know my grandpa very well and i had never been to a funeral so i wasn't really paying much attention at the time. the feelings didn't really start to come until the day after when my dad took me and my sister to see the body and to say goodbye. it was the first time i'd ever seen my dad cry and i mean really break down. it was confusing at first, watching someone whose almost been a superhero to you all your life break like that, but then i thought of what'd i'd feel like when he died. I remembered all the stories my dad told me about him and grandpa that i'd pay half-attention and realized how much those stories and those times meant to him and how devastating it must be to know that he would never have those times again in this life. I also thought of all those family cooks outs i would go to and sit and watch tv while everyone else was outside playing and having fun while my grandpa cooked and i began to feel guilty. i had finally begun to realize how important those family times are and i felt bad that i had spent all that time trying to get away from my family. my grandpa was like the head of our clan, and when he went things fell apart. i don't see my family together like that anymore and i find myself longing for those times again. i guess the moral here is that you should treasure the people closest to you and the times you have with them, because you never know when they'll go and how much you'll miss them when they do.

[Gillian]

I've only been to one funeral. It was for my grandfather. He died a couple of years back. I think I was about thirteen, maybe younger. I didn't know him well but I did see him often. I think I was too young to have known enough about him. But, it was very sad. I remember sitting out on a bench at the graveyard being just totally washed over. It was really my first experience with human death. Our old, family dog had died the previous year but that wasn't really the same.

We started at the church, a catholic one. There wasn't a casket. Grandad had been cremated. A couple of family members came up and said some nice words. There weren't really any funny stories, but I know those are common. I feel it's better to tell the good then the sad, you know? At any rate, we sat in the pews and listened then, once the service was over, we proceeded to a nearby church which holds the grave of my grandmother. She had died when my dad was very a teenager and my grandfather had remarried since then. It was all of my family that lives in Georgia. My family, all of my aunts and uncles and their children.

The service at the grave was short and sweet. He wasn't lowered into the ground or anything. We just sat and listened to some short words. There was some holy water, too, I think. That you sprinkle on the grave. We departed, walked around the graveyard for a little while looking for my dad's mom's grave. They were too poor to buy a headstone, so they don't know where she's burried. I remember waiting for my dad on this little stone bridge, being in a daze. It was a strange experience.

There was something that has never left me. When I stood up and started walking away with my (step)grandmother, she looked back at him and said, "I feel like I'm leaving him.". I remember saying something short to console her but, I don't know, that's just never left me. There was too much pain in her voice.

Afterwards, I delt with it like everyone else would. It was easier for me because I didn't know him as well. Though, I still regret not knowing him nearly as well as I could. I see my family more often now. I like to get to know them all. It makes me feel better. We make references to him often, joking about him love for Corn Flakes and his old fashion nature. My grandma is doing fine. She actually has a little boyfriend, which is good for her. It's keeping her happy.

[Midnighter]

[glow=purple,2,300][shadow=purple,left,300]Where'd all the good people go? [/shadow][/glow]