Lessons from the funeral home.
Original Post Date: 07.20.2021. Revised 07.19.2025
People mean well. Really, they do. At least, I hope they do.
It’s just that difficult circumstances seem to rob them of the ability to take a moment and think before they speak. If only they could use their tongues as turnstiles—redirecting their ramblings back where they came from—maybe their questionable commentaries would vanish, like magic. Instead, the words start flowing like cheap beer at a Cleveland Browns tailgating party.
The more uncomfortable the situation, the more at a loss for words some people seem to be. But instead of defaulting to something simple and sincere, we’re now doing battle for last place at a comedy club's amateur night.
This phenomenon seems to reach its peak at wakes and memorial services. Instead of offering a respectful “I’m sorry for your loss. Condolences to you and your family,” some folks opt to ricochet their way through the receiving line as if they were, well... at a Cleveland Browns tailgating party.
I know this for a fact—because my mom passed away last week. Was her death unexpected? No.Was I shocked when it happened? As though I’d been struck by lightning.
I’ll write a tribute post to her at some point when the time is right. For now, I’d like to share a few of the more memorable things people said to me at her memorial service. I took the high road, smiled softly, and nodded as they made their way past. But my inside voice responses are in parentheses.
Meanwhile, I could practically hear my mother whispering in my ear: “Dear God, what is wrong with these people?”
Here we go:
“Too bad you didn’t have time to pluck your eyebrows.”
(I’ve been channeling Eugene Levy. Glad it’s working.)
“Now that you’re alone, you’re welcome to come to my house for holiday dinners. I mean, I’m okay with it, but my wife might not be.”
(So... no, then?)
“I remember your mom walking around with a cat.”
(My mother hasn’t had a cat in more than 20 years. Also, I haven’t known you that long, so...)
“I know it’s hard… anyway, a few of us rented a vacation house for a week in the fall. I’ll send you the link. Wait until you see it!”
(Read the room, people. Read. The. Room.)
“Well, that whole generation is gone. I guess we’re next.”
(Is this the royal ‘We’ you’re talking about here? What do you know that I don’t?)
“You think you miss her now? Just wait—it gets so much worse.”
(Awesome. Can’t wait.)
“Our lives are so depressing.”
(Thank you. Very helpful.)
Said while staring into my mom’s open casket: “Oh my God. You look exactly like her.”
(Now, or when she was alive?)
You’d think—as my mother would say—“You could ask The Google” if you needed help figuring out what to say. But if you’re okay with Red Right 88*, go for it.
Oh, and about that tribute: It was a privilege to be Ida Lucia’s daughter. And from this day forward, I will lead my best life in honor of her legacy.
What’s the most unforgettable (or unfiltered) thing someone said to you in a moment of grief or difficulty?I’d love to hear your stories — the good, the bad, and the eyebrow-related.
“The Word” — written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, © 1965, published by Northern Songs Ltd.
**Red Right 88 refers to a legendary pass play during the 1981 Cleveland Browns vs. Oakland Raiders playoff game in which Oakland beat Cleveland 14–12.
