My apologies if this has been done before but the other thread concerning songs that you would have played at your funeral got me thinking about funerals in general and specifically about whether it is wrong to laugh during a funeral? I've been to three now and at some point in the proceedings found myself wincing in pain at the stitch I'd given myself during yet another failed attempt at laughter suppression. Some say that it's a strategy for dealing with grief and I'd agree with that but I'm not just laughing - I'm laughing AT something. Here's an example: my brother tragically lost his children (3 and 6 yrs old) in an accident many years ago. The week or so leading up to the funeral was pretty horrible as you'd expect but then the day arrived. I was a little apprehensive as I'd previously laughed during both my father's and grandfather's funerals but I thought that this one would be different. Sadly I was to fail again... The church was chokka with mourners and my brother and I were waiting outside with the vicar for the undertaker's car to turn up. He arrived a little late so things became a little rushed. My brother picked up the smaller of the coffins and began to walk toward the entrance. I stood there for a split-second as my brain commuted distance to altar and probable coffin weight (actual weight 50-60lbs). My conscience began fighting the terrible urge to make my mouth say 'oh yeah take the lighter one why don't ya!' as I hurriedly picked up mine. My brother started to walk slowly into the church. I had very little time to adjust the load so, holding the coffin under one arm, I quickened my pace and followed him in thinking I could change my hold underway. Wrong.. As we entered the church, the professional mourners at the back began to wail. I almost joined in as the coffin slipped slightly and came to rest between my sixth and seventh ribs. My brother was having no such problems as he'd had the time to realise that a two-handed 'tray' hold would a. be easier and b. not look stupid. I still had about 50 feet to go to the altar and was in serious trouble. Ayatollah Khomeini's funeral came to mind as I imagined the coffin falling from my grasp. The coffin weight seemed to have doubled somehow and this, combined with my weakening grip on it almost convinced me to change arms. This, I reasoned, would not have been a good move so I fought through the pain and eventually reached the altar. My brother then took what seemed like hours to set his coffin onto the stand and it was then, through the sweat streaming into my eyes, that I caught my sister's eye. She told me later that I looked like a harassed builder carrying a bag of cement. She almost laughed but was able to control it by diverting her gaze to the floor. I wasn't quite so composed and spluttered loudly and very obviously as I attempted to turn my laugh into a cough. I almost swamped myself during the first hymn when I finally got the chance to laugh properly. Anyone else got any funeral stories?