The Wrong Funeral

My neighbor, Carl, passed away last week, and his funeral was Saturday morning. Because we didn't make it to the viewing Friday night (too cold and too much work to take the girls out), Chad and I decided that I would go to the funeral Saturday to pay respect from our family. Here's what happened...

The funeral was at 10:30 a.m., and I rushed out of the house at 10:20. Luckily nothing is very far in Waverly, and I made it to the funeral home by 10:25. After illegally parking, walking through the snow in heels, and going in the closest set of doors, I found myself in an empty foyer. The interior double doors to the funeral parlor were closed, but there were coats on the rack and other cars outside, so I figured I was just the last one to get there.

After hanging up my coat and straightening out my dress hem, I went through the double doors and was relieved to find that there were still people standing around and talking. The funeral hadn't yet started.

A young, nice-looking funeral director handed me a program, and I made my way through the crowd to find someone I knew. On my way, I saw a framed photo of the deceased, realizing at this point that I was at the wrong funeral. I'm not kidding. This funeral was for an 83-year old woman; let's call her "Jane".

I couldn't just turn around and go back out. I didn't want to call any attention to myself, and I thought maybe they were having more than one funeral in the same building, so I just had to find out. After making my way through the mourners, I found the restroom and called Chad. When he answered, I whispered, "Listen carefully. I can't talk very loudly. I'm in the bathroom of the funeral home, and this isn't Carl's funeral. Look online and tell me where I'm supposed to be"...Thankfully he didn't waste my time and fall on the floor laughing. He ran upstairs to check the obituary on the internet, and told me that the viewing had been there the night before, but that the funeral was at St. John's church that morning.

Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t.

What could I do? I decided that the best thing would be to sit through this funeral, draw NO attention to myself, and slip out quickly afterwards. Because really, what could be more selfless than paying your respects to someone you don't even know, right? God must like that.

When I came out of the bathroom, they were starting the Lord's Prayer. It took only a few steps to come from the bathroom to the back of the small crowd, so I walked quietly into the room and said the prayer while reading up on the deceased in my program. I thought maybe I should be able to provide some reason for being there if anyone were to ask me how I knew her. I figured I could say she'd come into the library while I was working there, but then I read on and found out she'd lived in Texas since 1998, so that shot that idea. Just as I was trying to figure out something else, the prayer ended, and the funeral director addressed the group.

"I know this is a difficult time for you all, but before we take the family in, let's all go around and share a memory of Jane."

Sh*t!

I was in with the family. Okay, I swear I'm not making this up. This would only happen to me. Not only was I at the wrong funeral, but I had come into the room where the family gathers prior to the beginning of the service. Now I really panicked. I had to get out of there, but there was no way out unless I made my way back through the group and left as they watched.

"Let's start with you," the funeral director said, as he pointed to someone not far from me. I almost died.

At this point, I was in full panic-mode, so I backed up, went past the bathroom, through a small parlor, and up a short flight of stairs. Then I had to walk past an open doorway, where the mourners could see me, and I'm sure they were looking, considering my heels were clicking and clacking on the stairs in my mad dash for safety.

I kept going, passing a small divider wall and another open doorway, coming to a window where I could face the outside and wait it out. I figured if they were going to be able to see me, at least I could hide my face...kind of like an ostrich.
I was hoping that they would start the funeral soon and I could just sneak out the way I came in after the family entered the main area.

A few seconds after I found my spot to wait, the young funeral director came up and asked me if I was okay. He thought I was so upset that I had to have a moment to myself. Very sweet, but not helping my escape. I just told him that I was waiting for someone. I would have told him the truth and asked him to either show me another way out or hide me, but I didn't want all the family to hear me. Concerned, he said, "Are you sure you're okay?", and I just lied and said "yes, thank you", when really I was on the verge of a full-on freak-out.

Normally I don't embarrass easily, but this was different. This was someone's funeral. I just wanted out of there without making a scene. After he returned to the lower level, I realized that if he thought I was a distraught family member, he probably wouldn't have the group go in without me. "Oh, God, what if they wait for me?!?" was the last thought I had before my fight or flight instinct really kicked in. At this point, I was ready to take off my heels and sneak out a window, ditching my coat in the foyer and running in the snow with no shoes just to get to my car. Then I realized that my keys were in my coat pocket. I had to get back to the foyer.

To the right of where I was standing was a stairwell that led down to a set of double doors. I was afraid that they would lead back to the group of people, but I had no other options. I just sucked in what may have been my last breath, and tried to open one. Locked.

Seriously?

Really? Is this really happening to me?

I tried the left one, and it opened. I was in the foyer!!!! I got my coat on and made a bee-line for the main doors. Once I was outside and was getting safely in my car, I called Chad and told him what happened and said I'd be right home.

"Well, aren't you going to go to Carl's funeral?"

Seriously?

I really couldn't believe that he would ask me that, considering it was now 10:45, and I couldn't bear another embarrassment that morning. No way was I going to walk in late to his funeral. No way.

So, anyway, it's my own fault for not checking details before leaving the house, but I should have been cut some slack for trying to be a good person. Now all I have is a good story to tell my friends.