Funerals

Death is never a funny thing, unless you live with me.  Unlike most people who cry when they are upset, I tend to make jokes.  I understand that this is my way of coping, but it's not always the most appropriate response.  I once had a lady yell at me in court because I was laughing at my client killing a man by doing a "wheelby" shooting from his wheelchair after they left the strip club (that is a story for a different day and a different blog).  After my grandfather's funeral, where I laughed hysterically because Lela peed on her daddy's lap, a relative started screaming like she just realized he had died after we had been there for an hour, and I kept envisioning asking the funeral director "Can I have fries with that?" when my mother told me they had to get an extra large casket like she was supersizing her order at McDonalds, I have been banned from attending any funerals.

Unfortunately for everyone, Lela has had to attend quite a few funerals in her young life, and considering she is my child, she has her own view on things.  When both my grandfathers died, she was too young to ask any questions, thank God.  Last year, my husband's grandmother died.  This was the first time Lela attended a funeral and could actually talk.  I braced myself for all her questions, knowing that there would be a stream of them.  Instead, she watched everyone quitely, then passed tissues around and told people to wipe their faces.  This year, my husband's mother died.  Being a year older and nosier, Lela finally got around to asking some questions about death.  She wanted to know where was Grandma Leo.  We told her she had died and gone to a better place where she was no longer sick and no longer hurt.  She then proceeded to name off everyone she knew whom had died, including our dog, and asked if they were all in heaven together.  Once we told her yes, she seemed content with the answer and walked off.  I thought this was the end of it.  Of course, I was wrong.

At the funeral, I braced myself for the first time she would see her grandmother in the casket.  I held her little hand and we walked up to the open coffin.  She looked inside and I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't do anything drastic like try to climb in.  She looked, said "That really doesn't look like her, but okay" and sat down.  So much for that.

During the funeral, she seemed content to play her Nintendo (I have never been so happy for a handheld game in my life) until people started crying.  Then, in usual Lela fashion, at the top of her lungs and with all the attitude she could muster, she started asking "Why is everybody crying?  I mean, you said she went to a better place, so what's the problem?" 

Now, exactly what was I supposed to say to that?