Here’s Smartmom from this week’s Brooklyn Paper:

Smartmom’s 84-year-old Uncle Jay died last week and she couldn’t decide whether to take Teen Spirit and the Oh So Feisty One to the funeral.

While he wasn’t a daily part of their lives, they did see Uncle Jay every year at Thanksgiving and at other important family events like weddings and bat-mitzvahs.

A real kid magnet, Uncle Jay was a lovable guy who liked to sing, make pictures and tell stories.

OSFO would probably remember what a good artist he was. He loved to entertain his young relatives by drawing Mickey Mouse and other Disney characters.

And Teen Spirit would probably remember Jay’s stories about his cousin, jazz drummer Buddy Rich.

When she told Teen Spirit that Uncle Jay had died, he seemed very sad. But when she asked if he wanted to go to the funeral, he looked pained.

“I hate funerals,” he told her.

But as far as Smartmom could remember, he’d never been to one.

“I went to Uncle John’s,” he said.

Fact is, Teen Spirit didn’t actually attend the memorial for Hepcat’s Uncle John. But he probably heard so much about it that he thought he had been there.

Teen Spirit, like many people, probably just hates the idea of funerals and what they represent. Death. Loss. Grief.

What’s to like, really?

Smartmom gave the matter a good deal of thought and decided there was no need to force Teen Spirit or OSFO to go to her uncle’s funeral.

So, on what turned out to be the Mexican Day of the Dead, Smartmom and Hepcat went to the funeral of her Uncle Jay without their children.

Smartmom felt a little funny about it. She even felt a little guilty (what a surprise). Was it disrespectful not to bring them? For that matter, was she depriving them of an important life experience?

That was a good question. Smartmom went to a cousin’s funeral when she was about 10 and she never felt more awkward in her life.

Smartmom was terrified of death and didn’t know how she was supposed to behave. Needless to say, no one explained anything. She just sat through the funeral and felt plenty weird.

For years after, she was afraid of funerals. It wasn’t until her late-20s that she felt a little more relaxed.

Last Friday afternoon, a large crowd gathered for Uncle Jay’s funeral at a Westchester synagogue, where two rabbis and five family members spoke eloquently about this exceptional, larger-than-life man. He was alternately described as a movie star, a superhero, and a mensch.

Smartmom knew that her kids would probably get antsy listening to so much talk just like she had gotten antsy at her cousin’s funeral all those years ago. But she did wish that they could hear the beautiful — and funny — words her cousins had written about their father. It would probably surprise Teen Spirit and OSFO that there was so much humor at a funeral.

That would have been a good life lesson.

She wished that Teen Spirit and OSFO could have heard all the biographical details of her Uncle’s life. A leader in every sense of the word, he was a born athlete, a great storyteller, a World War II veteran,   boss, organizer for causes he believed in, loving father and grandfather, and a devoted husband to his high school sweetheart, Smartmom’s Aunt Rhoda.

Did Teen Spirit and OSFO know that their aunt and uncle attended Madison High School, where Jay (Class of 1940) distinguished himself in the arts and wore number 71 on the football team? Later, he went to Brown University and became a football star.

Smartmom sat childless in Diaper Diva’s green Jetta as they solemnly followed the hearse and a line of limousines to the cemetery, where her maternal grandparents are also buried.

She was relieved that her children didn’t have to endure the burial.

Death, of course, is a fact of life. And it’s not something to be ignored by or hidden from children. But, yes, OSFO would have been troubled by the sight of Uncle Jay’s huge coffin being lowered into the ground.

She knew that OSFO would probably have way too many questions — “Can he breathe under all that dirt?” “Isn’t it cold down there?” “Isn’t it dark?”

Each mourner placed a purple tulip in the grave. There was a chill in the air. Smartmom looked down at the large, pine casket and lingered for a moment of unthinkable thoughts. Sad. Scared. Where are we going?

Next came the thinkable thoughts: Had she made a big mistake by shielding her kids from the reality of death. Or was she doing them a favor?

Smartmom wondered that if by excusing them from the funeral, it would actually make them more afraid of death and the rituals that surround it.

Later, at the shiva at Aunt Rhoda’s, the conversations were rich, vibrant, full of life. “What are you doing?” “Where do you live now?” “Your children, what do they do?”

The voices were loud. There was laughter. Stories. Memories shared.

There was wine and good food. Rugelach, cheesecake, cookies, dried fruit. Friends and family caught up with each other.

When Smartmom was a child, she was surprised and even embarrassed that people were so festive after a funeral. Teen Spirit and OSFO might feel that way, too.

But that would be a good lesson, too.

Death is as much a part of life as a birthday party. It’s no different, really.

A ritual to commemorate the passage of time.

On the way home from Westchester, Smartmom decided: Next funeral, Teen Spirit and OSFO are coming. It’s a part of life just like everything else.