As sad as it was to be attending a funeral last week due to the death of my granddad's often strange behaving wife, it's always good when you can find a hint of humour in room crowded with heartache.
The service was sweet. I have not been to many funerals, so I don't have much to compare it with, but I'm guessing how it played out was pretty standard for funeral fun levels. The priest made us sing, my granddad made us cry, I got a special mention as one of the grandchildren and my mum did a little reading which she later had to check ten times over "Was I ok? I stumbled a little bit, I think I'd like to do it again. I'm quite good at public speaking aren't I?"
After the service we all rolled on down to my granddad's party venue of choice, the local bowling club. We ate egg sandwiches, mini pies, deep fried chicken dippers and a range of other gourmet goods. I mainly hung out with my brother and my cousins as we tried to avoid long conversations with people of the older variety.
It was about an hour in and three glasses of wine down when I decided I would break loose from the youthful charm of my younger relatives and go find my old granddad for a chat.
I looked around the room for him and once I thought I'd found him I started to mosey on over. When I got a little bit closer I realised that this old man, with grey hair and a black suit wasn't the granddad I knew and loved. So I tried to search again. There he is, I must have thought as I started to make my way across the room to another old man with grey hair and a black suit. On approach I realised that this old man was too short to my old man. I looked around bewildered and tried to spot my grandad among the mass of old men with grey hair and black suits.
"Holy shit." I said a little too loudly. "This is like playing Where's Wally?"
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