Have you ever found yourself in a serious situation where it’s all you can do to stop yourself from laughing out loud?
I have.
More than once, I’m sure, but only one such moment sticks out in my brain right now.
It happened at my cousin’s funeral.
Don’t worry – I hear they serve beer in hell.
I must’ve been about 24 when Andrienna passed away, and I remember feeling really nervous the morning of her funeral. I’d never been to a funeral before, and I didn’t know what to expect. Was it okay that I had a white shirt on under my black suit? Would there be a lot of crying? What was I supposed to say to my Aunt and Uncle?
Fortunately, my sister made it to the church before me that day and saved me a seat next to her, so I didn’t have to go through it on my own.
Bless her heart.
The service was quite nice. Andrienna’s niece played the bag pipes (funny enough, they aren’t as obnoxious when you have a heavy heart) and her brother-in-law gave the most heart-felt (and FUNNY!) eulogy, which left us all in brighter spirits.
As the service was coming to a close, the priest informed us that a few people had arranged to say a few words, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed my sister’s shoulders were shaking.
Ugh.
As I reached over to give her a squeeze, I noticed she was frantically pointing to the program, and as I looked down I saw my Grandmother’s name listed as one of the people who were going to speak.
Only it wasn’t my Grandmother’s name.
Her name was Rhoda, but the program had her listed as Rhonda.
As if on cue, my Grandmother stood up to make her way to the front of the church at that exact moment, and my sister ever-so-silently whispered, “Help me Rhonda. Help, help me Rhonda.”
I almost had to leave the church.
The good news? I’m 100% certain Andrienna was laughing harder and louder than we were.
RIP Andrienna and Grandma. We miss you both so, so much.
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