we're talking about ... funerals

There's been some opportunities to talk about death in our house recently. Its not a completely foreign concept to Friday, she watches enough David Attenborough to know all about animals dying, and we had a memorable occasion when she told us (while dragging a door sock - those things to keep the breezes out - around the house) that she had 'a body' she needed to get rid of.

'He was a bad man Mum, hurting my sister. I killed him and now I need to throw his body away.'
Resounding shocked silence from her Mother.
More silence.
Shocked.
And then ... 'Take it to Dad sweetie, tell him you're looking for a lake to put it in.'
She heads off down the passage, dragging the heavy cadaver behind her.
'Daaaaad, I've got a body here. I need a lake.'
Resounding shocked silence from her Father.
Hee hee.

We still have no idea where she got that from.

Anyhoo, I digress.

On Saturday I went to a memorial service with my Dad. I explained to Friday before I left that Grandad and I were going to a funeral, to say goodbye to one of his old friends who'd died.
Completely matter-of-factually, 'Did Grandad die Mum?'
'Er ... no, a friend of Grandad's.'
'Oh good. I like Grandad.'

Off we went and on our return she had some questions.

'Did you go and say goodbye Mum?'
'Yes we did.'
'How?'
'Sorry?
Exasperated now, 'How did you say goodbye when he wasn't there anymore Mum?'
She'd been thinking about things while I was away.

So I explained that she was right, the man who died wasn't there anymore, but as we'd not gotten a chance to say goodbye, the funeral was an opportunity to remember him, to think about the things we would've said to him, to remember all the good times we had with him and to show his family, who were sad, that we were there to support them.
I braced myself for the next question, surely she'd want to know where the man who died was?

'Was there cake Mum?'

Clearly my answer was sufficiently informative (or boring) for her. She was moving on to bigger questions.