Well, that was a good funeral, if such things can be labelled "good". G was spoken of with such fondness, even by Father F; it makes a difference when the person officiating over one's farewell ceremony actually knows one well.
There was sadness, but there was also laughter, and wry banter about what he would or wouldn't have liked. SFF's mom made a quip about his body, saying it was a good thing he was dead yesterday, or he'd have been dead from the cold - referring to him in the mortuary. G hated the cold and complained bitterly every winter.
I'd like to go that way - with people talking about the funny things I did, the things they remember about me, with fondness and a tip of the hat.
Goodbye, Mushroom Man. Hope it's not too dark and covered in shit where you are.