Funeral homes should have boxes of Kleenex in abundance. They also should pay the extra few cents for the brand name stuff, and not the generic tissues that take a layer of skin off. As a corollary, funeral homes should also be sure to provide trash cans for used Kleenex. Don't make us carry them around, or, worse, leave them lying around!

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There were so many people at Denise's funeral yesterday. We got restricted view seats; others had to stand. I kept thinking, Wow, I wish she could see all these people, all the beautiful flowers they sent, how sad they were that she was gone. That's one of the crazy things about funerals, sure, they're supposed to provide a sense of closure for the bereaved, but wouldn't it be cool if we could somehow rig it so the departed gets told beforehand how special he or she is? I guess it's up to us to make sure loved ones know they are loved.

Another thing I found a little funny - the people at work that used to drive Denise crazy, there to pay their respects. Like the two guys who she had to serve as administrative assistant to. Both very similar in that they could not plan ahead or manage a schedule even with someone else doing the scheduling. The receptionist who frequently called in sick or came in late. The thing was, D didn't hate them, she wanted them to do better, knowing that they were capable of it. She was everyone's mother that way. She was the one who would remember birthdays around the office. She was taking meals over to one of the young guys who had just moved into a new place. But she didn't take care of herself, and, unfortunately, that led to her untimely demise.

I wonder if the office manager, who didn't really care for her, felt guilty.

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After the service, we waited in line to talk to Amanda. Someone had made a collage of photos of D. We looked at that and admired the flowers. I noticed a gold box on a table in the center of the arrangements. Was that...was she...? Lisa looked at it. "Yeah, urns aren't very traditional looking anymore."

I have this thing about cremation. It kind of creeps me out. I think it has to do with all the study of ancient Egypt that I've done over the course of my life. (Not that mummification is the way to go either, mind you.) Remember that one scene in the movie Scrooged? I almost had to leave the theater. Yes, I know I'm weird.

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Apparently they are importing Catholic priests from Ireland into Florida. For me, anyway, at least I could enjoy the lilting accent, since the words weren't too comforting. I'm not Catholic, but I'm fascinated by the call and response thing, the Rosary, the sameness of it all. And Catholic school - is that to protect the faithful from heathen Protestants? I was also having trouble with the assertion that the departed was in the presence of God, but yet would be reborn when Christ returns. How exactly does that work? Do you just hang out in Heaven and then somehow get made corporeal again when the time comes? That seems a little - odd.

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Isn't it interesting that R.I.P. - Requiescat in Pacem and it's translation, "Rest in Peace", both have the same initials?