My father had a very weird, dry sense of humor. He would have appreciated this. A few months after he died (he had been hit by a truck), a letter came in the mail addressed to him, so I opened it. It was from the police department.
They said that the criminal investigation was finished, and that he was free to pick up the possessions that they had confiscated as evidence. The letter said he was to come in person and bring some photo ID.
I thought this was sort of funny, because not only did the police forget he was dead, they also had the only “picture ID” that he possessed. A few days later I purchased a new gift bag (suitable for a man), and I put his box of ashes in it. It was sort of like putting on a new shirt, you know?
Then I grabbed a friend and together she, Dad (in his new gift bag), and I went on down to the police station. When I got there, I showed the lady at the window the letter they had sent. Then I brought out his death certificate. I said, “I know you want a picture ID,” and I pointed to the embossed eagle on the death certificate. “Here’s the picture, and the ID is on the rest of the paper. Would you like to meet my father?” Then I lifted up the gift bag with his ashes inside it.
My friend was laughing so hard she was almost on the floor, and I managed to keep a straight face the whole time. Good times!