I drove up into the lakes and hills today for a funeral. It was graveside, in a little country cemetery. I had arranged to be at the funeral home, on a main drag through one of the nearby towns, to follow the funeral home folks to this remote and very nearly undisclosed location. When I arrived no one was there. Ack!
I found a placard by the door listing a phone number to call, and soon I learned they had gone out there early to prepare since the weather was very rainy. The funeral director sent his helper back to lead me across town and county lines to the graveyard.
When I got out of the car, Funeral Director came to greet me, which was very nice, but to my great surprise, he kissed me on the cheek!!
We had met once before, in the company of the deceased’s daughter-in-law, for ten minutes.
After the service, I said good-bye to him. This time I was better-prepared, I thought, and stuck my hand out to shake his. He leaned in for a hug and kissed my hair. (!!!)
Maybe he was just relieved I got there?
Pure Luck wanted to know what perfume I was wearing. He also asked if the guy gave me tongue.
Hardeeharhar, Pure Luck.
And the answers are “none” and “no.”