It was a day of unbridled grief and questionable life choices as hundreds gathered to bid farewell to Richard Smallwood, the gospel music icon who somehow managed to be remembered with an actual funeral that lasted longer than his 77 years on this earth. Because what's a few decades when you can just sing your way back from the dead, am I right?
The mourners, armed with enough hymns and handkerchiefs to put Taylor Swift to shame, sang Smallwood's favorite songs for an estimated 473 hours straight, hoping that maybe – just maybe – he'd magically reanimate and join in on the harmonies. When asked about their plan, a church spokesperson quipped, "Hey, it's worth a shot! You never know when a good ol' fashioned gospel sing-along can resurrect the dead!"
As attendees sang through Smallwood's kidney failure, heart palpitations, and probable bout of boredom with his own funeral procession, they claimed to have spotted the deceased gentleman bobbing up from his casket, enthusiastically conducting the orchestra. Witnesses reported that Smallwood looked particularly pleased with himself, sporting a beaming grin and an earpiece so he could get in on the beat.
The event's organizers took the phrase "sendoff" to new heights by hiring a team of professional mourners who were paid extra for every minute they could sustain a decent level of sadness. The contract stipulated that participants had to maintain at least 75% of their tear duct capacity throughout, lest anyone suspect foul play.
Meanwhile, the eulogy took an unexpected turn when a guest speaker inadvertently turned the mic over to Smallwood's spirit, who proceeded to give a spirited – pun intended – rendition of "I'll Fly Away." Witnesses claimed that as he sang, the mourners' faces began to levitate off their seats in awe.
When questioned about the efficacy of this novel approach to resuscitation, a funeral industry insider snickered, "Hey, if it's not broke, don't fix it. Or, you know, just sing your way back from death. It's like CPR for non-believers."
With Smallwood's musical afterlife now taking up its own zip code, loved ones and acquaintances are already planning the next move: a 12-hour funeral jam session to see if they can coax any other dearly departed back into this world.