Funerals. Is it wrong to say that under the right circumstances, they can be a lot of fun? Case in point, I’ve just returned from a weekend to celebrate the life of my best friend’s dad. He was 88, had a remarkable career as a trial attorney and was one of the nicest men I have known. As I gathered with her, my twin sister and two of our other close gal pals, we realized that we hadn’t been together since our 20-year high school reunion back in 2010.
Sure, there were tears (not from me, of course, at least not publicly, because I bottle up emotions until they erupt unexpectedly in a drive-thru). But overall, there was joy and laughter and hysterical memories of teenage antics. Two of us had brought along scrapbooks from the late 1980s, depicting self-organized photo shoots in taffeta gowns and big hair. We giggled at how skinny we all were but how fat we remembered being. We recalled awkward school dances and scandalous spring break vacations, forgotten boyfriends and girl dramas, stupid wine coolers and even stupider fad diets. We even learned a few new things about each other, like the fact that two of our “Fab Five” secretly went to the Bahamas without any of us knowing!
The best part, though, was enjoying the true friendship that can only come after 30 years of knowing someone, of experiencing marriage and motherhood and, now, loss together.
So, yeah, funerals are sad, and I am certainly not looking forward to the next, but honestly, I haven’t had as much fun in a long time.