M's grandmother passed away last week in Denver and instead of driving to Portland for Thanksgiving, we boarded a plane for Colorado. This wasn't the first time a great-grandparent has died, but it was the first funeral the boys went to. We didn't discuss it much beforehand. It seemed to the right thing to do - send the boys (5 and 7), leave the girls (1 and 3) at home. I told the boys what to expect, they asked questions... nothing out of the ordinary.
I don't know if this happens at all funerals, but in Jewish funerals the family and close friends of the deceased (I almost wrote victim, which means I've been working a little too much) shovel dirt onto the coffin once it has been lowered into the ground.Turns out, my boys got into a bit of a pissing match about who could shovel more dirt. This would have been enough of a challenge had Efram not accidentally (we'll never really know) shoveled a heap of dirt onto Bennett's dress shoe. Nobody touches that boys' fancy clothes and walks away unscathed.
M said he thought they started to go at it graveside. I'm not sure how he distracted them ... but he did get them home in one piece. Given that Bennett has been asking lots of questions about being buried alive, I think Efram got off easy with just a scrape.
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