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THE QUESTION

My sister's mother-in-law passed away last week. I was going to go to the funeral, but then a friend gave me once-in-a-lifetime tickets to a basketball playoff game. I couldn't resist. I mean, I didn't know the deceased that well - so long story short I skipped the funeral. I told my sister that, sadly, I had an unavoidable work commitment.

But then the friend I went with mentioned the game, and my sister hit the roof. Now both she and her husband have cut me off entirely and asked other family members to do the same, saying I disrespected the dead. How can I undo the damage I've done?

THE ANSWER

You can't undo. There's no undoing. Trying to undo could be your undoing.

Here at Damage Control Central, our corporate motto, which we sometimes shout out on the dance floor at company parties, has always been: "What's done is done and can't be undone/The bell that's rung can't be unrung/The sands of time, they can't unrun/You did the deed, now it's gotta be spun."

Then we blow our whistles and wave our little glow sticks in the air. ...

Because you happen to touch on a topic I feel quite strongly about, I'm going to set aside company policy on this occasion and say: You probably should have gone to that funeral.

There was a lovely piece called "Always Go to the Funeral" on NPR a few years ago, by a woman named Deirdre Sullivan.

She said her father taught her to "always go to the funeral."

She said his statement has always reminded her "to do things even when I really, really don't feel like it. ... I'm talking about those things that represent only inconvenience to me, but the world to the other guy. You know, the painfully under-attended birthday party. The hospital visit. ... In my life, the daily battle hasn't been good versus evil. It's hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus doing nothing."

Too true. All too true.

But she had me with "painfully under-attended birthday party."

Nothing is more embarrassing when you're alive than throwing a sparsely attended party. But an under-attended funeral? If, after an embarrassing life and (probably) embarrassing death, hardly anyone shows up to my funeral? That scratching sound you hear from my grave will be me trying to dig my way even deeper into the earth.

Unless the deceased is a world-historical figure, the funeral will probably be the last party thrown in his/her honour. You have to go if only so that he/she can seem popular this one last time.

And to support the living, too, obviously - in this case your sister and her husband. It's a tough time for them - and a busy one, as well, in my experience. When someone dies, there's a lot to get together in short order: religious ceremony, choosing a venue for people to gather, burial or cremation, etc. A lot of decisions.

And you have to do it all in a daze. On top of your regular life. Your sister was not only grieving but tired, harried and hassled. She might have needed not only your sympathy. She might have needed you to roll up your sleeves and help.

So you can see why the mental image of you eating popcorn and watching a bunch of tall guys in shorts bouncing their balls around a basketball court while she was frantically dealing with everything might've been a tad ... infuriating?

"Always go to the funeral." Even if you're not invited. A funeral is one of the few social occasions it's acceptable, even encouraged, to crash. (The concept being: The family's too stunned and grief-stricken to remember who all to invite and their contact information.)

It's up to you to figure out where it is and show up. It works out for you, too, trust me: free snacks, free drinks, good karma. And you've demonstrated you're a good friend, a solid supporter - a rock! How's that going to hurt your rep, monkey boy?

Anyway, enough said on the topic of "You should have gone."

Since you didn't, I would say your best bet now is to send your sister a note of both condolence and apology - a note expressing your sincerest "condologies" (memo to Hallmark, you should have this type of card, it'd be a big seller: "I'm very, very sorry for your loss - and also my behaviour during your time of grief.") Be humble, don't try to justify. Say you're an idiot and really, really sorry.

Maybe now offer your services and help. After all, at least as far as the living are concerned, it's always better late than never.

On the other hand, it was the playoffs ... just kidding. "Always go to the funeral." Remember it's going to be you on that bier some day. If you die before your sister, who do you think is going to be front and centre on the organizing committee for all the ... arrangements?

That's right: sis. So before the sands of your time run out - and you never know how much you're going to get - you need to right this wrong, smooth things over with your sister.

That way, if, God forbid, you're hit by a garbage truck or fall through a sidewalk grate, she won't have to deliver her eulogy through clenched teeth (and won't pepper her comments with cracks about how you loved basketball during your life, so much so you were blinded to, etc., etc.). And she'll be able to enthusiastically pour her energies into throwing you the last bash you surely deserve.

That way, you can still seem like a cool guy to everyone even after you've ... cooled off a bit.

Go out on a high note.

David Eddie is a screenwriter and the author of Chump Change and Housebroken: Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Dad.

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