IsAC regulars will know that one of the things I attempt when posting is to inject a bit of levity into a nomination (the extent to which my efforts at humour succeed must be left for you guys to judge).
There are some subjects however in which I simply can find no humour, and having to go to a funeral is one of them. At my time of life in particular, they come around with a frequency which is no laughing matter at all.
Last week it was the turn of a friend and former work colleague. Her name was Judith, a lovely woman whose mind had been ravaged by the dreaded Alzheimer’s to the point where she didn’t even know her own name, or could recognise family and friends.
So we all turn up to drag ourselves through the motions, heavy of heart. The person leading the service takes us through the events of the deceased’s life, and attempts to lighten the mood with those ‘happy memory’ anecdotes which are meant to bring a smile and make us go ‘ah yes, that was Judith!’. For me, standing there with a lump in my throat, this just makes matters worse.
Then it’s finally over, to the secret relief of us all. We troop out, making a feeble attempt to console the family with platitudes, wondering in the back of our minds whose turn it will be next.
Funerals. A place you have to be, and the last place you want to be. There’s just no upside whatsoever.
Funerals are a cunt.
Nominated by: Ron Knee



