There was a short viewing before grandpa's funeral. I think viewings are a little creepy, but whatev. Grandma wanted one so there. Mom, dad, and my uncle were all looking at grandpa there in the lovely tasteful casket and couln't put their finger on what was wrong. "He seems kind of pale," said mom. "We're just used to him with more age spots and I think they smoothed those out with some make up," said my dad.
"THEY SHAVED HIS MOUSTACHE," realized my uncle.
Oh shit. That's like Magnum PI shaving his moustache, or santa clause with out the beard. Grandpa was fiercely proud of his whiskers - claiming they were virgin growth, never been shaved, and he made it all those years with it in the navy because it was blond and he just kept it really short. Regardless, none of us, not even grandma, his wife of 62 years had EVER seen his upper lip. In those last days and weeks, shaving him wasn't a priority of the nurses and hospice workers who were attending to every other of his needs with kindness and caring like nothing we'd seen before. So he got a little scruffy. When he passed and was collected by the funeral home, dad and my uncle found a picture to give them so they could prepare his body for the viewing. We figure the moustache wasn't that obvious in the picture and nobody thought to mention it, so the funeral home, doing their best, made him all nice and clean shaven.
It really is quite funny, as I'm sure grandpa was up there, slinging a few not-so-appropriate-for-heaven words around as he looked down and saw his moustache gone. Over his dead body was the only way we'd ever get to see that upper lip. I guess it came true.