Coffin in Your Face: Why Attending Wakes & Funerals is a Stiffer Punishment Than Death...and How to Fight It

I don't have a fascination with death. Regardless of the fact that I participate in celebrity death pools and frequently envision the potential outpouring of sadness, or lack thereof, at my own services, I'm not one of these people who watches the news nightly to get my fill of tragic infant drownings. I'm much more interested in discussing the social awkwardness that these deaths create. It's less depressing and far less people are exploring this avenue. So, with that said, here is a collection of some of the reasons why I believe, when it comes to wakes and funerals, the corpse has it easy...

* What's worse than canned tomato sauce? Canned conversations.

I feel like one of those wind-up dolls from the second I walk into a wake till the second I leave. Because there's only a handful of sentences you're allowed to say when attending these events. You are generally confined to the following:

"At least he/she isn't suffering anymore."
"He/she is in a better place."
"Let me know if there's anything I can do."

I refuse to say any of these trite, overused phrases. You know what I do instead? I surprise them with something out of left field, like, "She always cooked with just the right amount of onions." or "It's a shame he never got into Backgammon. I feel like he would've been good at that." They always stare and act confused, but at least they're not crying.

"If there's anything you need, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask anyone other than me."

* Happiness is frowned upon

You have an unwritten obligation to be melancholy at wakes and funerals. Any time I'm at one and I realize that I'm smiling, I try to pretend that I'm on pain medication due to the sorrow and that inappropriate smiling is a side effect. Everyone knows it's bullshit, though. Particularly my wife, who sits there shaking her head in disgust at my egregious lies.

* "I feel so alive! Oh...sorry for rubbing it in."

There's a tendency to feel guilty at funerals, just for the simple fact that you're breathing and someone else in the room isn't. To counteract this feeling of remorse, I try to casually bring up a hardship I've recently experienced so I don't feel as undeservingly fortunate. I'll say something like, "Facebook hasn't been loading for me quickly on my Blackberry. What's up with that?" Then I look around and notice that everyone is knowingly nodding in empathy. Other times I'll go up to the coffin on crutches and everyone will ask, "Are you okay, Joe?" And I'll reply, "Oh, it's just a broken femur. I'll be fine, it's Uncle John who you should be worried about, who just lost his wife of 45 years and will surely be looking for the nearest bridge off which to leap." I always come out looking completely noble, people feel sorry about my broken leg, and no one even remembers that someone just died. It's a win-win.

* "Would anyone care for some finger foods? Great, then eat your fingers."

There is never, ever any food at wakes. Hell, there's not even napkins at wakes. The only way you're getting fed is if you're a family member or close friend and make it out to the funeral and there's usually a repast if you make it to the end of this gloomy gauntlet. And the night wakes are almost always 7-9. That's right in the middle of my normal dinner time! You could at least put out a tray of Bagel Bites. Chips. Peanuts. Something! The only real solution to this is to host a tailgate in the parking lot. It might not be your responsibility, but if the ignoramuses in mourning won't do it, the weight falls on your hospitable shoulders.

These beauties will enhance the mood of any death gathering.

* I'm missing the American Idol results show for this?!

You have to pretend that attending these services is more important to you than finding out live who got booted off "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!" Thankfully, these days we have DVR to fall back on (which I'm convinced was invented by a chronic wake-attender tired of having to program his VCR). When I was kid, I left my girlfriend's father's wake to call my mother and make sure she was taping a Van Halen concert I'd been looking forward to for months. We wound up breaking up shortly thereafter, and coincidentally, so did the band. But at least I saw the show.

"You better hope Grey's Anatomy's a rerun tonight, you inconsiderate old bag!"

* When it comes to fashion, don't outshine the corpse.

You're encouraged to dress like you're ready to be placed in a coffin when you attend wakes or funerals (black suit, white shirt, plain tie). I guess they figure just in case you die while you're at the wake, half their work is already done for them. If you're a woman, a bold act of defiance would be to wear the shortest skirt you can find in the loudest print you can find and make out with the highest ranking mourner in the room. You may not be invited to the next family reunion, but who would want to be anyway?

In conclusion, if you die and attend your own wake as a ghost and I'm either smiling, eating, dressed nicely, or not there, now you know why.

Thanks for reading. Podcast coming soon!

jdp