Let's be a Frauneral

I'm the hanky wiping at non existent tears.

I'm the chorus from Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah sung repeatedly for 10 minutes.

I'm the home baked cookies for the mourning family.

I'm the phrase "better place".

I'm the thoughts and prayers.

I’m the visibly uncomfortable and agitated blue-collar husbands furious about having to wear a suit and tie

I'm their bored kids.

I'm the phrase, "Heaven needed another angel."

r6

You mean all husbands under the age of 40 these days.

I'm all of the black mourning clothing.

I'm there for the free refreshments. "Theater of the living!"

I'm the flowers that were purchased at WalMart and put in an old vase purchased at GoodWill.....much more "meaningful" that flower shop blooms......and delivered by me when I finally show up at the viewing.....

I'm the gift of Precious Moments figurines.

I'm here to kick the casket.

I'm the black veils and rosary beads.

I'm the barely concealed disgust on the faces of older kids and teens looking at a corpse for the very first time.

I'm the nasty stares and whispers being given about the Other Woman who dared to show her face in the back pew.

I'm boxed wine, here to symbolize the celebration of the dearly departed's life.

Live

Laugh

Die

I'm one of the group of transsexuals following Blanche around at Phil's funeral, wondering if she's one of us.

I'm the gay son secretly checking Grindr on his phone. I haven't seen these people in years and I can't wait to get the hell out of here!

I'm the GoFundMe she obnoxiously tells everyone she setting up on behalf of the deceased.

I’m the Catholic priest, conducting the “Mass of Christian Burial”. I’m checking out the hot gay couple in the left center pew. I’m fantasizing a sizzling 3-way in the rectory. The bulges in their tight pants are driving me wild.

I'm the group of fraus gathered around the grieving widow. We judge everybody who comes near.

I'm Clairee Belcher, gettin' ready to set up a booth so everybody can take a whack at Ouiser!

I’m the « barely knew the deceased » fraulein who insists on staying through the whole service with her screaming baby, punctuating the solemnty of the ceremony at every moment of silence.

I'm the yoga pants and oversized blouses worn by women under the age 50.

I AM GRIEVING frau who NEEDS to keep my strength up! By devouring an entire platter of food at wake with no shame.

I’m the depends they wear...

I am the online candle lit in memory of the dearly departed school friend last seen 60 years ago.

I'm the three-bean casserole she brought to feed mourners during the luncheon afterward.

R30 I’m the old drunken Frau’s hair that catches on fire, because I drunkenly fell on the candle.

I am the gay man who's forced to cover her work at work because she took a whole day off for this funeral. If I dared to question this -- let alone attempt to ask my homophobic boss if I could do the same -- I would immediately be sued for 'misogyny'.

I’m the frau that tells everybody the Deceased was ‘Queer’

I'm the plus size Lane Bryant everywhere.

I'm the cheap perfume.

I’m the ex husband of the deceased Frau and I finally realize she really was a lesbian.

I'm her 'funeral outfit' that barely fit her at the last funeral and definitely does not now; though that still hasn't stopped her trying to squeeze herself into me.

I'm 'black is slimming'. She will repeat me to herself over and over again.

I'm the priest's Grindr notification sound going off mid-eulogy.

I'm the funeral potatoes. And she wants my container back.

I'm all of the fake grieving.

I'm the elephant in the middle of the room (or, rather, the graveyard) consisting of the unspoken but widely shared knowledge that the frau grieving her friend's death the hardest is also the one who fucked her husband, now the grieving widower, after the PTA meeting while the departed one and DH were going through their rough patch a few years ago.

I'm the overt whispering about how the deceased had an "ok" life insurance policy-- but it won't be enough and the Tahoe will need to be sold.

I’m the cremation incinerator, awaiting its latest payload, and awaiting everyone else, too.

I'm all of the cheap booze afterwards.

FROG

I'm the barely-concealed anxiousness of one Frau waiting her turn to greet the grieving family with sympathetic hand grasping and dusty platitudes.

I’m the person who murdered her - funny the cause of death still has not been listed.

Thanks for the pointers. I have to go to one tomorrow for a 99 year old woman who was a bitch on wheels for years and whose kids (and grandkids, and great-grandkids) are no doubt overjoyed this blessed day has come at last. Nothin' to see, though, except the grieving family: Gram (or rather, her powdery cremains) will be there in an urn, not an open casket.

I’m the ear-piercing vibrato from the minister’s soprano wife singing “Nearer My God to Thee.”

R51 I’m the flag being laid over the Deceased body. Damn, we need a bigger flag. I guess the Church fucked up again.

I'm her husband being forced to wear a suit while she gets to wear black yoga pants.

I'm going to watch Sleepless in Seattle tonight. It was OUR movie.

I'm:

I'm the men, standing out in the parking lot, smoking and talking about sports.

I'm the coin that goes into the mouth of the dead queen to pay the ferryman.

R54 Now our movie is ‘While You Were Sleeping’.

I'm the photo collage or memory board at the entry to the church. I can also be placed next to the casket.

The deceased in now in the arms of the Lord.

I'm the go-fund me account set up so her daughter and son in law can have a nice weekend in Vegas.

Im the bad girl relative whose only black clothing is a selection of strapless evening gowns slit up to the hips.

I am the Queens,the gin and the tonic.

I'm the sad gay man in the corner taking notes on all the sad boring women's behavior so I can post about it on my favorite website.

I'm the wedding party waiting for this shit to be over. Tonight is our rehearsal. Get the fuck out of my wedding!

I’m the socially awkward late teen trying to avoid the inane chit chat. If one more crazy aunt asks me if I have a girlfriend I’m going to have a breakdown. If I make it to college away from this mess I’ll be ok, and hopefully meet a cute guy.

"I'm here for you".

I'm the Elizabeth Arden Red Door Perfume wafting everywhere.

I'm the creative one, male or female, sitting in the funeral, casting everybody in my mind, including the corpse, with soap actors as they make their way in.

I'm all of the platitudes and over the top, fake praise about what a good person the deceased was.

I'm the priest/minister/rabbi/imam/shaman who stopped by the wake/memorial service/viewing/funeral pyre to say a few words but never met the deceased before he or she "passed."

So I really don't have anything to say. It won't stop me, though.

I'm Sarah Maclachlan's "In The Arms Of The Angels " playing while everyone passes by the coffin, judging the funeral make up.

Dear Lord in Heaven!

I'm the discount funeral casket.

I'm all of the smug moral superiority.

I'm the DLer who FFd and blocked r68.

That photo is hilarious OP

I am the deceased's bitter son who tells anyone who will listen, "If there's any justice she's shoveling shit in Hell as we speak." People assume I'm drunk but no way would I do anything to blunt the satisfaction of this blessed day.

nnnnn

I'm the mourner of Italian descent amazed at the lack of wailing, howling and women trying throwing themselves into/on the coffin that I am accustomed to at Italian wakes/funerals.