When I heard that my good friend's mother had passed away I knew it would be much appreciated if I attended her funeral service. I knew her and had done some work in her home. She was a petite woman with a thick German accent whose husband died young and as a result, worked her entire life up until she recently became ill in her mid 80's. She was a survivor, a tough woman whose determination and work ethic she passed on to her older son. Even at the time her illness set in, she had all her faculties and carried on good conversation.

I found out last minute about her passing and all I knew was the town the service was being held in. With five fresh inches of snow on the ground and more on the way, I shoveled quickly, put on a shirt and tie, and headed in the direction of the town, twenty-five minutes away...

There are two Funeral Homes in that town and you pass one to get to the other, so I felt confident I'd arrive at the right place and on time. As I drove by the first one I saw in a glance that the parking lot was completely empty, so I continued on...

When I arrived at the second parlor which was seven minutes down the road, there were lots of cars and realizing I was running a little late I parked and headed in quickly... Once inside I saw that the crowd was standing and the casket had already started making its way down the center aisle, marking the end of the service. I looked for my friend and his wife, the only two people I'd immediately recognize, and I couldn't find them. In fact, I didn't recognize anyone. Then it dawned on me- I was at the wrong funeral!

I couldn't leave without being a disruption and so I stood and waited for the casket to finish its journey to the limo, and then waited for all the people seated to leave row by row. I nodded my head and paid my respects just as I would have had I been at the right funeral and actually knew the deceased, all the while growing more and more concerned that I would totally miss the funeral service I should have been at...

When the parlor emptied I ran to my car, made my way through the crowded lot along with the other mourners, and headed back towards the first parlor. When I arrived back at this location the lot was suddenly full and I parked in one of the only spots left, in the far corner. I ran through the slush and into the parlor. I tried not to draw attention to myself and quickly took a seat in back row. The service was wrapping up and within minutes the casket began making its way down the center aisle, just as the other one had, and only minutes ago.

As the casket got to the back, close to where I was standing, my friend saw me and gave me a low wave, arm at his side, fingers pointing towards the ground, nodding and acknowledging that I was there for him. He had seen me, I was there, I paid my respects like good friends do-

No one would believe I attended two separate funeral services in under a half hour. Who crashes funerals anyway?