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  • Writer's pictureFred

Don't Worry Sinéad, You'll Be Following Soon

I have talked about this on other occasions, but about a decade ago I had Guillain Barre Syndrome. I could barely walk and still couldn't drive when my dear Grandmother passed away. The dirtbag management at Iron Mountain didn't want to let me go to my own Grandmother's Funeral because I had just returned from my GBS leave of absence. I told them if they didn't let me go, I'd see them in court.

So my parents took me to the funeral and I felt terrible, they had more to worry about than an immobile son. I didn't want to be a burden, so I told them just to park me in the corner of the funeral home in a comfortable chair. As they disappeared, I watched relatives march in and out. Very few of them knew I was still recovering from GBS, some stopped by to chat, others ignored me like a potted plant. It was like the end scene in Princess Bride where Westley is motionless in bed and uses every ounce of energy just to stand up. That was me.

After about an hour, in order to pass the time, I began to focus on what people were wearing. I kind of made a game out of it. I was wearing dress pants, white dress shirt, tie, and jacket. Not a suit jacket, just a regular jacket. One decade later, I only remember what 2 other people were wearing at that funeral.

  1. Uncle Jeff: Technically ex-Uncle Jeff. After he divorced my Aunt, we rarely saw him. He showed up to my Grandmother's Funeral wearing a Bowler Hat and looking like he was headed to a Poison Concert immediately afterwards. Either that or a Detroit Douchebag Convention. He's dead now.

  2. Aunt Jodi: (Not her real name.) My Aunt Jodi showed up to her Mother's Funeral wearing green sweatpants and a hooded green sweatshirt. Even for all of the anti-psychotic drugs she was probably on, she should have known to dress better for a funeral. She's dead now.

Which brings us to the point of the story. I remember sitting in that chair and thinking "Aunt Jodi doesn't have much time left, maybe 5 years tops. She's lived a hard life and 55 or so years is about all she's getting. She proved me right a few short years later.

You look at Sinead O'Connor at her son's funeral wearing pink sweatpants and a hooded pink sweatshirt, and she should have know better, even for all of the anti-psychotic drugs she's probably on. At least Aunt Jodi didn't wear black slippers to my Grandmother's Funeral.

Readers at the Daily Mail were horrified that the paparazzi were at a funeral. I think they missed the point. If her kid was saying he wanted his Mom to wear bright colors at his funeral, maybe there should have been an intervention earlier.

And, to top off an already insensitive article, I'm sure her kid meant something like a bright summer dress, not a pink highlighter.

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