I’ve never been good with the dead.

I’m not often uncomfortable in social situations, and even when I am, I have learned how to handle myself in most of them. But I’ve never done well with funerals and wakes. I think this is because it seems everything anyone says near a dead body seems trite and pithy. No matter how deep you get, you cannot overcome the severe weight of death in the very room you are in.

Also, I like to make jokes when faced with uncomfortable situations, and funerals aren’t a good place for jokes.

Ben and I went to see Grandpa Flack in his casket. I also don’t like open casket viewings, but I see them as a neccessary evil. The closed casket funerals I’ve been to left me without the closure open caskets have. Thing is, no one ever looks like they did when they were alive. And they shouldn’t. My grandmother had a very bizarre jowl thing happening at her viewing, one that was even more unpleasant that it was in real life. And she was buried in her wedding dress - which was a miniskirted dress from the 60s. It added to the bizarre.

Grandpa’s nose was too thin. Flacks do not have thin noses, like the Forbes do (not that mine is thin, but that is because I have my mother’s nose, rather than my father’s and my brother’s), so it looked odd. But otherwise, he looked…..honorable. He was buried in Uncle Bob (his son’s) Marine dress blues, because his were too worn - given that they were issued to him when Grandpa was 16. It was filled with medals and ribbons. His retired police badge was in there, along with a hat from a group of “four” old Marine buddies, of which he was the last to go - and they were all buried with the hat. He wore his Purple Heart.

Occassionally, as these things go, we would go up there with people who came in. I always want to touch the person in the casket, but I’m always fearful. I didn’t that night.

Grandma saw us and waved us over. I gave her a hug.

“How you doin?”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

I thought for a second, and realized Grandma is a pretty straight talker, and doesn’t mind directness.

“Don’t you hate people asking that? Because of course you aren’t really very good.”

“Yeah….you’re right!”

“You should just start telling people you’re really crappy!”

This brought a smile, and a little chuckle.

“I should!”

We mingled with more family, waited for the line to die down at the TV and the table. Ben started flipping through a photo album, which ended up being an album of old clippings and photos from Grandpa’s police days.

“DUDE,” says Ben.

“….Yeeesss?”

“Dead bodies!”

Of course Grandpa had photos of homicide victims from the 60’s in his photo album. And it was only proper to show them at his funeral.

….Or something.

(To be continued.)