My grandma's memorial service was yesterday and you guys, it was bad. Like, laughably bad.
There was the minister who pronounced "peace" like "piss" and sang parts of the hymns with comical vibrato and forgot the words to other parts (even though he had a hymnbook right in front of him.) There was the 200-year old organ player who fell asleep in between songs and who played the wrong notes so often that the songs were unrecognizable. Seriously. He played Pachelbel's Canon in D which is like, the most recognizable song ever and I couldn't tell what it was without reading the program. There was the 30-minute long eulogy that my aunt delivered (the same aunt who prevented the memorial service from being on a weekend because it would interfere with her Christmas craft fair schedule) that covered - in great detail - the generation before my grandma but failed to mention, you know, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Oh no wait, the eulogy just excluded my dad's children and grandchildren, not my aunt's child.
So yeah, the whole day was one big "wtf?" moment. But! After the service, after the church basement tea party, after getting stuck in a traffic jam for two hours - with both bladder and boobs threatening to burst - my family and I gathered at my parents' house and ate yummy food and remembered my gram. And it was good.