More seriously,
Funerals are deeply strange things that most people are fortunate enough not to have much experience of and there is no ‘correct’ way to grieve. Everyone else attending should be too lost in their own thoughts to worry about the sartorial elegance of the rest of the congregation.
My mum passed last year. I honestly couldn’t tell you now whether I wore a tie or not. The 12 months from March 2023 have all been a bit of a blur, I can only remember snippets. I’m sure as hell not sitting here now thinking “well, it was a lovely service, but did you notice that Uncle Keith wasn’t wearing a tie?” I can barely remember who was there, even.
I hope it was a big multi-coloured jazzy one. Black is so depressing.
My hot take is that a funeral should be a celebration of life rather than a mourning of loss. I’d rather friends rocked up to my funeral in an Iron Maiden tee or a Hawaiian shirt rather than a suit and tie. I tried to inject a bit of levity into my mum’s funeral because I know 100% that it’s exactly what she would’ve wanted, her one overriding characteristic that everyone will remember her for is her rapier wit. It probably went down like a lead balloon in some quarters but that registers a zero on my Giveaf**kometer, she’d have loved it and that’s all that matters.
By contrast I lost my dad, what, over 10 years ago now? His funeral was a thoroughly miserable affair, some bloke in a frock who’d never met him tossing on about “loving father” and “devoted husband” and the usual boilerplate shite he’d probably read out a dozen times that week alone. I thought I’d come to the wrong event, he wasn’t describing anyone I recognised.