Two Rememberings

Reedsy Prompt for May 22, 2026

Include a wake or funeral in your story where the mourners have conflicting feelings about the deceased. (1,760 words)

Two Rememberings

Me: Well, we’re here. Not a bad venue for a farewell, nice pews and stained glass. It's great there are a few people here already.

Friend (F): Yeh, it should be a good turnout. He had a lot of friends.

Me: So James went before us.

F: Yeh, it was ever likely to be that way though, given his lifestyle.

Me: Sorry, I thought he had quite a joyous and cautious attitude to life, for sure keeping very fit. And he certainly worked hard as a doctor.

F: Yeh, maybe too joyous, eh? All the alcohol, and his favourite French fags, Gauloises. And maybe too much work.

Me: How about we go outside? The service doesn’t start for another half hour. It’ll be easier to disagree away from this hallowed atmosphere possibly cramping our style.

F: Good idea, let’s sit on the steps or maybe a bench out of the way.

(They find a bench under a tree not far from the church doors.)

Me: Ah, that’s better. I feel more liberated here. Not so weighed down by a terminal ceremony.

F: I was saying our demised mate drank and worked too much.

Me: Well, I’m not sure drinking is all that bad for you after a day’s hard work. There’s a “joie de vivre” involved. Why not look on the bright side?

F: I beg to differ. He was drinking lager to start with, then wine, then whisky and liqueurs. I remember saying to him once, “Why are you putting white wine in your gin?” He said that it made the gin taste better, something like that. I well knew it was for added strength and it was referred to as a “depth charge”.

Me: Yeh, in Scotland it’s a “whisky chaser”. You well know I’m sure, a dram of whisky in a oner then following it with a glass of beer. Our friend was a character!

F: I’d have to agree with you there but he could go too far. Do you remember him at school, clutching girls’ bottoms?

Me: Well, if you’re going to believe that it’s because you didn’t think all that much of him. I try to see the good things about James.

F: You always were a bit of a saint or maybe that should be a bit naive. He did some awful things.

Me: Well, let’s not go into them here.

F: But that’s why we’re here, to remember and deal with our grief as best we can.

Me: You’re not suffering though, are you? I well know funerals are for the living but ask yourself if you really need to be here to get over your grief.

F: We all grieve in different ways. It’s the remembering.

Me: Yeh, OK. I have a great story about James, him and me working outside in summer holidays.

F: Yeh, I knew you enjoyed that work.

Me: Well, there was a lot of good times and fun in it. I could tell you a story but I’m not sure about your powers of listening.

F: Try me! There’s still 25 minutes to the remembrance.

Me: OK, on your head be it! The work we did was mostly just cutting grass with special machines. It wasn’t easy because we had to cut around the gravestones, some of them ancient and falling apart. I’m sure you’ll remember we were gravediggers, the official name of our jobs. You’ll also well recall how we all had a good laugh, often at the slightest thing. Well, one day we had to officiate at a burial. After the work of digging the “hole”, we put on special clothes, just flimsy oilskin coats to cover our working gear. It was a solemn sad service at a rural graveyard, the coffin ushered to the grave by a troupe of mourners, some men in dark kilts, the women wearing veils. It was an odd experience in deep countryside and James suddenly saw the funny side, becoming convulsed with the giggles, so much so we had to turn away for fear of being seen to be inappropriate for the sad occasion.

F: I’m surprised James bothered to disguise it. He wasn’t usually up for much decorum.

Me: Oh, he could behave well when it mattered. Anyway, it was the longest graveside good-bye I ever experienced although only six or seven minutes long. I think we did well not to come across as a couple of clowns at a solemn occasion.

F: Sorry, what exactly caused your giggles?

Me: It was the bagpiper leading bleak mourners to the graveyard along a grassy path, the sole sound of the pipes a bit over the top melodramatic we felt. And also our daft gravedigging gear! There again, it could have been James’s comment about a grave occasion. After this we started calling the sombre farewells, “fun-fer-alls”, and I have to say here that we’d often laugh about them, saying things like, “I wouldn’t be seen dead at your funferall”. We even made a pact not to go to each other’s remembrance, something I said to James would be easy for him.

F: And so it has proved to be! I don’t really understand how such graveyard work could make you so nonchalant about life and death.

Me: Well, I think it has to do with proximity to the dead. We would lean on the headstones and eat our lunches.

F: I wonder if there’s a grave specially prepared for James here.

Me: That would have been great but strange to say he’s going to be cremated, so there’ll be a hearse. I doubt if he had much say about going into the ground.

F: Well, I think it’s better if that kind of thing is left up to the family in trying to deal with their loss.

Me: Sorry, but I believe that the wishes of the deceased should be honoured.

F: Yeh, but some dying people ask that their ashes be carried half way round the world. Ridiculous!

Me: Oh, easy enough, I know of several people who have delivered their loved ones’ ashes to some distant relative or location.

F: I still think that survivors shouldn’t have to follow a dead person’s wish. I mean, the dead and gone will never know.

Me: Yeh, but there’s something else to be considered, which is living with oneself. People like to fulful promises to avoid self-recrimination.

F: Well, each to his own. What else do you remember about our funny friend?

Me: Oh, yes! He could be very funny with many a joke. He was an eccentric, a loveable oddball.

F: Well, that’s sort of my memory or impression of him, but if I’m honest, I don’t really think it! I would use epithets like crazy, capricious and plain daft!

Me: Speaking ill of the dear departed isn’t my way, but of course you’re entitled to your opinion.

F: So if you were allowed to give a tribute at the service here, what would you say?

Me: Oh, easy! All the good times, the daft tales, the dirty jokes, the laughs and the helpfulness, especially when it came to some medical advice.

F: So you’d tell a dirty joke to the mourners?

Me: Well, I’d choose carefully. Actually, maybe just an iffy joke,

such as this one, very suitable with a doctor in it:

An old chap went to see his doctor because he was constipated, and the doctor prescribed some large capsules. The old fellow said,“I’ll never be able to swallow those.” So the doctor told him, “You don’t swallow them, you place them in your back passage.” So the old guy went away, and the next week he was back at the doc’s complaining they didn’t work. The doc says, “You did put them in your back passage, didn’t you?” The old guy says, “We don’t have a back passage so I put them in the front hall, but for all the good they did I might as well have stuck them up my arse.”

F: Oh, dearie me! I don’t think that’s at all suitable for a solemn farewell.

Me: Who said it’s going to be sad? I think it’ll be light-hearted, the way our old mate would have liked it. What would you say in a tribute if the family took the risk … I mean gave you the chance?

F: Oh, I think I’d mention how well we got along, how we enjoyed having a drink together in the likes of Greyfriar Bobby’s Bar in Edinburgh. Also the times we went camping.

Me: Well, that sounds fairly jolly. No laughter? No jokes? No daftness?

F: Nope! Not suitable for such a function in a place of serious ceremony.

Me: Oh, I think in these modern times, doing and saying something different is the way to go. I hope there’s some good music playing. James loved old Scottish stuff and Rock’n’Roll, all of which reminds me of what I call “Living Funeral” where you have a dry run of your remembrance, where you are lying in the coffin totally alive and listening to your friends delivering their memories of you.

F: Well, that’s an original idea. I knew about James and bagpipes and Rock’n’ Roll, but personally I would hope for a few hymns, maybe a little classical music. And certainly words of respect and wisdom from the minister.

Me: All that could be done at your Living Funeral!

F: Yeh, that’s if I wanted to do such, but it’s a bit too eccentric and weird for me.

Me: It would be a good chance to try to make your farewell lighter and more involving. Your feeling for the way remembrances used to be is very traditional. People now prefer tributes to be lighter, even have a few laughs in them.

F: OK, OK, how about we go in and get the feeling for things for ten minutes? I noticed quite a few people arriving. Maybe they’ll be regaled with some suitable music.

Me: Oh yes! You know James was a big Elvis fan? So there could be “I Can’t Stop Loving You.”

F: Or “Amazing Grace”. Then there’s “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” and “I Remember You”.

Me: Great title the last one, not sure if it was Elvis though.

F: OK, time to be quiet and respectful.

Me: I think the music should be turned up.