When my father died, my extended family gathered at the funeral home a couple of hours before the visitation. Though the occasion was sad, the initial energy was pragmatic, making sure everything was prepared for people to arrive soon. Then the staff gathered the family together near the television, which would soon play a video of photos for the next few hours. This was our opportunity to see the photos on the screen together for the first time, honor his life, and feel connected to one another.
As the images scrolled and music played, my family shared moments of smiling and remembering, along with feelings of grief and tenderness. We saw pictures that spanned decades—not only of him but also of us. It was a lovely remembrance.
And that’s when we arrived at the end of the video. Some final images were shown, accompanied by text that read:
And so we give thanks….
(screen change with new image)
…for the life of… Beulah.
As you might have guessed, my father was not named Beulah.
There was a pause, and the contrast between the faces of the funeral home staff and our own could not have been greater. While they stood there in horror, realizing that they had forgotten to change the name from the last person honored in that very room, we suddenly burst into laughter. They apologized profusely, thinking they had ruined our moment, but we found it so funny.
In fact, my family thought it was so funny that, when my grandmother died five years later—she who had laughed the first time—they specifically asked the funeral home staff to show us her video with the same conclusion.
And so we give thanks….
(screen change with new image)
…for the life of… Beulah.
I have no idea who Beulah is, but she has now been honored twice, in addition to her own video. In times of grief, challenge, pain, difficulty—or simply change—it’s important to feel our raw emotions. But it’s also a great gift to find moments to laugh.
— Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 