Born to Pall

While discussing my role as a pallbearer last summer with Allison, I excused my flawed experience by explaining that I had never done it before. Allison laughed, noting, "It would be funny if pallbearing was a hobby that you did all of the time." Immediately, I became fascinated with the idea of pursuing pallbearing as a personal interest.

(Yes, "pallbearing" is totally a verb now. Learn it, live it, pallbear it.)

If I am to be a frequent pallbearer, I figure I better learn how to do it better. Thankfully, I found a website explaining How to Be a Pallbearer. The steps and advice the site gives are so obvious, it's nearly comical, while the tip "sip a soothing ginger or peppermint tea prior to the funeral to soothe your body and soul" is pretty strange in itself. Allow me to direct your attention to the bottom of the page, however, where users can comment and I discover a fellow pallbearing enthusiast. Ey starts eir post, "I've borne the pall nearly a dozen times. It matters." It's not supposed to be funny, it just is. The next commenter does not offer up any advice, instead telling eir personal story, concluding it by speculating her deceased uncle would be greeted in heaven by his premie child and Jesus.

Pallbearing seems awesome. I know I wasn't great my first time, but if you give me another shot, I promise not to let you down. Or drop you for that matter.