>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.