Why I Don’t Talk too Much at Funerals

I will be visiting the funeral home in a couple of days for a friend who passed away long before he should have.

Sadly, it seems I go to more and more these days. I guess it’s just math — the older you get, the more you have to go.

I admire people who know what to say to the family at the funeral home, I truly do. It amazes me to watch someone comfort a grieving family member. I think it’s a talent.

Of course, different people have different styles of communication in situations like this. Some might tell an anecdote to lighten the mood. Others will offer somber heartfelt condolences.

I just struggle to say anything.

Two reasons account for this.

First off, when I am in a situation like that, my throat closes up, and I physically cannot speak. The trigger usually is seeing someone else who is sad. I can go to the funeral of someone Kim knew and I didn’t, and it still happens.

I’ve been that way all my life, and if anything, it’s just getting worse.

Second, on occasions when I am able to form the words, I can never say anything I feel is adequate. It is usually something cringe worthy like, “How’s it going?” or something equally bad.

So, several years ago, I adopted a strategy.

I started saying “I’m so sorry” to the family members. It’s brief and it’s heartfelt. It’s perfect.

If I give myself a really good locker room talk, I can get those three words out before I get choked up. Then, usually the person I am speaking to will take the lead in the conversation, and I’m in the clear.

This has worked pretty well for a long time.

But I went off script at a service back in October.

One of Kim’s uncles had passed away. Because of the pandemic, the service was limited to the graveside.

We got there probably a half hour before the service started.

It was a crisp breezy day. The sun was bright, so sunglasses hid watery eyes. That helped me because it was harder for me to tell who was visibly upset.

With it being outside, people were spread out, and for the most part the mood was fairly light for a situation like that. I made small talk with several people.

And as long as the conversation was about something not concerning the reason for us all being there, I was okay.

As the time for the service neared, one of Kim’s cousins walked up.

She is 15 or so years younger than me, and I’ve known her since she was a little kid. 

When we got married, she made a “just married” sign for us to put in the car window. She was probably in the first or second grade, and it looked like something a 7-year-old would do, complete with stickers and misspelled words.

I saw her, and that’s when I promptly blurted out “Hey good lookin’! When did you get here?”

It's a phrase rarely heard at funerals. And I’m not sure it’s going to catch on.

But boy, it beats the heck out of “How’s it going?”