Were you allowed to go to funerals when you were a kid ?

We weren't allowed to go to funerals with our parents, not that I recall wanting to go. However, because we didn't, I was exceptionally afraid at the first funeral I attended, and refused to look at my fiance's father's body in the casket. At that time, I was around 20 or 21.

Both my parents were cremated. I didn't have the opportunity to view them beforehand.
 
We were never even given the option to go, we were just never told ....the first person I saw in a Casket was my mother when I was 18... and that was a shock, because she was a nurse and she used to tell me stories of when people died they looked better than in real life often, ..because their wrinkles dropped out, and they looked younger and at peace...so it was a shock when I saw my mum and she was stone cold, and grey. The mortician hadn't even made her up, but they'd stuffed cotton wool in her cheeks
 

I was allowed to, and I wanted to. There weren't many funerals while I was a kid, though. But I wasn't afraid of them. My parents taught me that death is inevitable and that there's nothing unpleasant about it even when it's a "bad death" or when it happens to kids.

Mom comforted us with talk about heaven and angels and stuff. Dad was a realist. Death looked ok from both sides.
 
The first funeral I attended was when I was 5 years old, and it was a real lollapalooza.

My dad's cousin had been shot to death by the husband of the woman he was messing around with. Of course, the "family story" was that it was a case of mistaken identity.

The funeral was in a little country church. Names will be changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

Here's the scene: The funeral is getting ready to start. "Bertha", the widow, has been escorted to a front pew. She's dressed to the hilt in "widow's weeds"....black dress, black hat, long black veil. Now "Big Bertha" was just that. She was a mountain of a country gal, not overly fat, just BIG and strong and hefty. She is holding up in a dignified manner, just the occasional ceremonial mopping of the eyes with her black-bordered hanky.

The funeral kicks off and just then, the "other woman" slips into the church and sits on the aisle about half-way down. She, also, is dressed in widow's weeds, black dress, hat and veil. She starts sobbing and sniffing and moaning. "Oh, Herman, you were too good for this world! Oh, Herman, God always takes the good ones!" etc, etc.

Nobody has any idea what to do. Big Bertha puts up with this for about ten minutes and then she snaps. She stands up and steps out into the aisle, throws her veil back and walks back to the Other Woman. She proceeds to snatch her out of the pew, throw her to the floor and kneels on her, pounding her head into the floor, while hissing "WHORE! HARLOT! HUSSY!" or something of the like. Everyone is frozen for a moment.

I'm standing on the pew, getting a fine view of the proceedings. My mother is trying to get me down so I can't see, but not having any luck. I'm not going to miss this! At that point, Big Bertha's dress has ridden up and all I can see is a huge yellowed-girdled rear end that eclipses everything else.

At this point, a couple of the menfolk pull Bertha off the Other Woman and manhandle her back to her pew. A couple more men pick up the Other Woman and hustle her out of the church. The womenfolk tend to Bertha and get her settled back in.
The funeral proceeds.

I think it was several years before I attended another one.

My family has always had......uh....."interesting" funerals, which is why we now prefer memorial services later to funerals quickly after deaths.
 
I went to my Aunt’s funeral when I was 5. She was my mom’s only sister and was killed in a car accident one night when the car she was riding in was hit by a drunk driver. The cops came to our door about 2 in the morning to tell my mom because my aunt was living with us. When the cops came to our door and told my mom, my dad had to hold her up and ended up carrying her over to the sofa. I guess it’s something a person, even a child doesn’t forget.
 
All my relatives were from England so I never saw them alive or dead. I only went to one funeral as a kid and it was for a girl who drowned on a school trip. She had knee length hair that got caught on some under water branches of some sort. Her body was put on display and I found it very creepy.
I never told my parents that I went. They wouldn’t have cared anyway.
 
jujube said:
The first funeral I attended was when I was 5 years old, and it was a real lollapalooza.

My dad's cousin had been shot to death by the husband of the woman he was messing around with. Of course, the "family story" was that it was a case of mistaken identity.

The funeral was in a little country church. Names will be changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

Here's the scene: The funeral is getting ready to start. "Bertha", the widow, has been escorted to a front pew. She's dressed to the hilt in "widow's weeds"....black dress, black hat, long black veil. Now "Big Bertha" was just that. She was a mountain of a country gal, not overly fat, just BIG and strong and hefty. She is holding up in a dignified manner, just the occasional ceremonial mopping of the eyes with her black-bordered hanky.

The funeral kicks off and just then, the "other woman" slips into the church and sits on the aisle about half-way down. She, also, is dressed in widow's weeds, black dress, hat and veil. She starts sobbing and sniffing and moaning. "Oh, Herman, you were too good for this world! Oh, Herman, God always takes the good ones!" etc, etc.

Nobody has any idea what to do. Big Bertha puts up with this for about ten minutes and then she snaps. She stands up and steps out into the aisle, throws her veil back and walks back to the Other Woman. She proceeds to snatch her out of the pew, throw her to the floor and kneels on her, pounding her head into the floor, while hissing "WHORE! HARLOT! HUSSY!" or something of the like. Everyone is frozen for a moment.

I'm standing on the pew, getting a fine view of the proceedings. My mother is trying to get me down so I can't see, but not having any luck. I'm not going to miss this! At that point, Big Bertha's dress has ridden up and all I can see is a huge yellowed-girdled rear end that eclipses everything else.

At this point, a couple of the menfolk pull Bertha off the Other Woman and manhandle her back to her pew. A couple more men pick up the Other Woman and hustle her out of the church. The womenfolk tend to Bertha and get her settled back in.
The funeral proceeds.

I think it was several years before I attended another one.

My family has always had......uh....."interesting" funerals, which is why we now prefer memorial services later to funerals quickly after deaths.
Click to expand...
I'm reading this thinking this would make a great scene in Everybody Loves Raymond....:ROFLMAO:
 
oldman said:
I went to my Aunt’s funeral when I was 5. She was my mom’s only sister and was killed in a car accident one night when the car she was riding in was hit by a drunk driver. The cops came to our door about 2 in the morning to tell my mom because my aunt was living with us. When the cops came to our door and told my mom, my dad had to hold her up and ended up carrying her over to the sofa. I guess it’s something a person, even a child doesn’t forget.
Click to expand...
i remember the police coming to the door back in the day when someone had died.

They came to ours when my grandfather died. He'd been found dead in the mobile home he'd recently moved into , which was in the next city...this was exactly one week to the day before my mother died.
 
hollydolly said:
i remember the police coming to the door back in the day when someone had died.

They came to ours when my grandfather died. He'd been found dead in the mobile home he'd recently moved into , which was in the next city...this was exactly one week to the day before my mother died.
Click to expand...
It was a terrible thing for me to watch my mom suffer. My dad sent me and my sister back to bed.
 
Pinky said:
We weren't allowed to go to funerals with our parents, not that I recall wanting to go. However, because we didn't, I was exceptionally afraid at the first funeral I attended, and refused to look at my fiance's father's body in the casket. At that time, I was around 20 or 21.

Both my parents were cremated. I didn't have the opportunity to view them beforehand.
Click to expand...
My experience exactly. In our family children did not attend funerals, women only if it was a close relative.

The first funeral I attended was my father's. He died suddenly from a heart attack. I was 25, married with two children and was completely shattered. He was 57 and a returned serviceman. The sight of his coffin draped in the flag was unbearable.

There were two services - one at the funeral parlour and another one at the crematorium. The drive between venues was excruciating for me and I could only maintain any semblance of composure by looking out the window of the mourners' car but mentally focussing on things outside the car and naming them - traffic light - tree with pink flowers (crepe myrtles) - corner shop... I did this to avoid upsetting my mother who was in the same car.

At the crematorium service I managed to read a tribute to Dad that I had written the night before when I could not sleep.

Mum lived on until the age of 93. Her passing was no surprise.
I organised and directed her funeral service myself.
 
I have another question about funerals (if you don't mind, Holly):

Is there a funeral you attended that you wish you'd skipped?

I didn't want to go to my brother's funeral. He was 34 when he was killed in a car crash (I was 48 or 9 at the time). It was horrible watching my parents grieve. Mom let out a heart-wrenching shriek when the music started, and Dad was inconsolable. Well, they both were.

The only bright spot was that his ex-wife and their 3 sons were there. I mean that was really tough, too, because the boys were only 6, 7, and 8, but after the music started they came and sat with my parents. In fact, they didn't just sit, they snuggled, and that was as comforting as it could be under the circumstances.
 
Last edited:
I went with my parents and brother to funerals. We always went together and even though my cousins were there I knew it was a very serious occasion. The service was usually in Polish so I didn't really understand it. Then afterwards we would go to someone's house and they would serve lots of food. I have gone to many more since then.
 
I was early 20's when my grandfather died. He was my favorite relative. I remember my aunt trying to force me to go to the casket and look at him and I did not want to. I did not want to see him like that.

I don't remember attending a funeral prior to that.
 
katlupe said:
I went with my parents and brother to funerals. We always went together and even though my cousins were there I knew it was a very serious occasion. The service was usually in Polish so I didn't really understand it. Then afterwards we would go to someone's house and they would serve lots of food. I have gone to many more since then.
Click to expand...
Wakes were a tradition in my family as well. Not anymore. Now they do Celebration of Life galas.

There was actually a bouncy-house at my nephew's Celebration of Life. ....Ok, I guess.
 
Murrmurr said:
I have another question about funerals (if you don't mind, Holly):

Is there a funeral you attended that you wish you'd skipped?

I didn't want to go to my brother's funeral. He was 34 when he was killed in a car crash (I was 48 or 9 at the time). It was horrible watching my parents grieve. Mom let out a heart-wrenching shriek when the music started, and Dad was inconsolable. Well, they both were.

The only bright spot was that his ex-wife and their 3 sons were there. I mean that was really tough, too, because the boys were only 6, 7, and 8, but after the music started they came and sat with my parents. In fact, they didn't just sit, they snuggled, and that was as comforting as it could be under the circumstances.
Click to expand...
yes in answer to your question, aside from my mum's funeral... I wish I'd never had to attend the funerals of my youngest sisters' 2 children. One aged 15 the other just a baby 4 months old. I truly have never witnessed 2 parents who were like they were in a bubble of grief of their own... despite there being literally dozens and dozens of family and friends
at the funerals..
 
It didn't matter what our age was, we were all expected to go to pay our respects to friends & family who past. I remember back then, for the older family members who died, the viewing was held two days followed by the funeral the next. After funerals, everyone would gather back at the church where the church ladies had food for everyone. It was a time to meet people you hadn't seen for a while & remember the good things & funny stories.

Husband was raised the same way as a kid, so we did the same with ours.

I was about 12 yo when I found out that a 10 yo second cousin wasn't allowed to go to her fathers funeral. She & he were very close, but her mom thought it wasn't appropriate for her to go. I thought that was very cruel of her.
 
hollydolly said:
if a family member..like a grandparent or uncle died.. were you allowed to go..if not would you have wanted to ?
Click to expand...
I was never allowed to go to any family funerals as a child. I wasn't old enough to think twice about it, so I never had any interest to go.

The first dead person I saw in a casket was a nun who died when I was in grade school. The class was there to pay our respects. She had a white lace type covering over the casket, so it wasn't too intense. I remember feeling a bit uncomfortable, since I hadn't thought much about death and dying, and my parents didn't discuss anything like that with me.

Not big on funerals even today, we will both be cremated.....no funerals.
 

You must log in or register to reply here.

Back
Top