Funeral

This is not as sad of a post as the title may make you think. I was reading a book that includes a Jewish funeral last night and a blocked memory surfaced. Yes, it involves my dad. On one of his weekends when I was a child (can't say how young, but def elementary school aged) my dad had a funeral to officiate, or preside over, or whatever clergy do at funerals. He couldn't leave me home alone I guess so he took me along. During the Temple ceremony he had me stay in his office, but for the graveyard part I had to go along. If memory serves, he told me to wait in the car but possibly he told me to wait at the far gravestones. Either way, I wandered around the far end of the graveyard for a little while until I got too scared and made my way towards the funeral. I vividly remember peering at the funeral from behind a nearby gravestone. I also remember that when the funeral ended my dad yelled at me for not obeying him and me explaining that I got scared and him still being mad because it was someone's funeral and people didn't need the Rabbi's baggage hanging around (not his words of course). I felt bad that I'd interrupted (did I?) a sad moment for people but looking back, was there really no better alternative to taking me to a graveyard? Surely he had helpful neighbors, or Hebrew School kids who wouldn't mind making an extra buck one afternoon. Maybe he wants me to learn about death, from the car? It just seems so weird. I'll ask him if he remembers.