This will be a big blow for you, both personally and professionally.
Your father was a great man. A child oncologist who devoted his professional life to helping children. He travelled through developing countries training doctors and establishing treatment centres. His annual Flip Flop Fun Run raised millions of dollars. Nicholas Cage came last year.
You loved him so much and wanted to be so much like him. But you were not a strong student and math wasn’t your thing and you got into the drugs and the Vietnamese girls and the body shaving parties, so you weren’t going to be a doctor.
But you were still going to help people. You were going to help people with the healing power of Christ.
You started out paying your dues in the clubs, working your way through to the better faith healing venues, opening for some big name faith healers, until you were eventually packing mega-churches four nights a week, healing the sick, addicted, infirmed, crippled, cramped, gassy, corpulent masses with a lot of powerful touching and affected Southern accents (you’re from Rhode Island).
But people here aren’t being very sympathetic. Mostly because they’ll think you’re full of shit and this is a final hilarious fuck you.
“Hey, why don’t you get up there and give it a shot champ?” your father’s old army buddy will say. “Ha! Just kidding. Your father was a great man. You’re a joke, but he was great.”
“Can you do me a solid and Jesus heal this rash on my chest for me?” your aunt will ask. “I tried yelling at it like you do, but I guess I’m doing it wrong. Have a go!” She’ll pull your face into her liver-spotted cleavage and take you for a non-consensual motorboat ride.
People will laugh. You will not. You will get up to the podium and address the bereaved.
“You all loved my father. And he loved all of you. This room is FULL of love.”
Leave the podium and walk out to the crowd. Ignore the booing.
“The power of love is strong. So strong, I think, that it can cross over and bring back those we loved so much.”
Walk to your father’s coffin and throw it open. Lay your hand on your father. Give your cousin the finger.
“I call on all of you to join hands (no one will do it so fuck them and keep going) and help me in calling our lost loved one BACK TO US!”
Your father will spring to life, taking a full strong breath. Many people will scream. One person will piss their pants for unrelated reasons.
“Thank you son,” your father will say tearfully. “Only you could bring me back.”
“Thanks for doing this Dad,” you’ll whisper in his ear. “It’s really great of you.”
“No problem son. You help people in your own way and you deserve the respect of everyone here. I never thought you were full of shit.”
Your dad is the best.
YOU’RE THE FAITH HEALER AT HIS FATHER’S FUNERAL!