We got hired to film a comedy show. For a funeral.
I’m going to let that sit for a second.
A group of friends, a very tight group, had lost someone they loved. And instead of doing the usual thing (the flowers, the organ music, the generic eulogy from a pastor who maybe met the person twice), they threw a comedy show. Inside jokes. Roasts. The kind of laughter that only comes from people who really, truly knew somebody.
I can’t share names. I can’t share the title of the event. It was private, and it was meant to stay that way. But I can tell you this: it was one of the most genuinely honoring things I’ve ever witnessed.
There’s a certain kind of grief that only comes out sideways. Through humor. Through stories that make you laugh so hard you cry, and then you realize you were already crying. That’s what this was. A room full of people who loved someone enough to celebrate them the exact way that person would have wanted.
It was an honor to be invited into that room. I set up my gear, I stayed quiet, and I captured what they gave me.
Some films are epic. Some films are intimate. This one was sacred.