This story is rather sweet, but told during bad timing.
DH’s grandfather died peacefully at the age of 90. His adult grandsons including DH were the pallbearers and were sitting together facing the open casket for the service. Just before the service started, we could see all six talking together in low tones and then shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter that lasted quite some time. We were all puzzled what had made them start laughing and why it lasted so long.
Afterwards I asked him what it was about. Grandpa was slightly elevated in his casket and his folded hands were quite visible including the finger with the missing upper half. The grandsons were talking about it and it turns out that Grandpa had told each grandson a different story about how he lost his finger.
The story was appropriate for each one – my DH was a car mechanic, and Grandpa told him he lost it in a fan blade, and to be careful. Another grandson liked to work with horses. Grandpa told him he lost it when riding a horse, and to be careful. Another grandson liked to do woodworking. Grandpa told him he lost it to a power saw, and to be careful.
They didn’t know until they were talking just before service that they were each told a different story.
And, for the record, he lost it in his mid-30s while working in a cotton mill.
