YANBU
It is not a big thing to ask that people show some respect for the bereaved - am genuinely shocked & rather sickened by the attitudes shown by some people on this thread. I can only think that the people who've described funerals as "shows"/whinged about being inconvenienced/generally been dismissive of traditions surrounding funerals & mourning are lucky enough to have never experienced the death of someone close to them. The whole thing about people being in their own little world in their car & oblivious of funeral processions is really very worrying: if you are driving you need to be paying attention to what is going on around you!
I am ten days away from the 19th anniversary of my mother's death. There was certainly plenty to attract attention on the day of her funeral, but it certainly wasn't a show. Our front garden was full of floral tributes as was the pavement in front of the house - spreading along to in front of our neighbour's houses. Thankfully the woman who was all set to try & pick her way through them was stopped from doing so by a neighbour. I think all the curtains on the road were closed & people who were at home that day came & stood by their front gates.
I didn't travel in one of the funeral cars. I didn't go to the crematorium. I didn't even sit right at the front of the church because I couldn't bear to. Because if I did, it meant that it was my Mummy in the coffin & it was real. I still can't bear to hear "Morning Has Broken" because I have flashbacks to walking up the aisle of the church behind the coffin holding Daddy's hand & clutching my Sweep the dog to me with the other. I didn't wear black partly because Mummy didn't like seeing children in black & partly because going out to get new clothes for us wasn't exactly on the agenda in the aftermath of her sudden death. (Sweep wore a black tie though.) The church (which is HUGE) was so full some people had to stand. Mummy was a teacher & as well as as many of the staff who could be spared attending the funeral the whole of her Tutor group came - they also made a card for us all - full of memories of her, too, not "just" signed by them.
The day of Mummy's funeral is burnt into my brain. Had I had to endure shitty behaviour from stupid-selfish strangers the whole thing would have been even more traumatic than it already was. It was bad enough that when most of the children present (my then-13-year-old brother didn't come) went to the park at the top of the road to escape the horrendously grief-laden atmosphere of the house we got stopped by a random woman demanding to know why we weren't in school. Because apparently she thought a group of smartly-dressed (in sombre colours) children, all of whom had obviously been crying, were bunking off. Her reaction to that managed to make me feel horrendously guilty for having left the house.
Funerals reflect the wishes of the deceased &/or their family. Thing is, as you can't know what those were if you're not involved, it is the decent thing to err on the side of caution. They MIGHT [have] be[en] delighted if you broke into a tap routine/rugby song/series of cartwheels. You risk hurting the mourners by doing so if that's NOT the right thing, so it is best not to do anything that will interfere with what's going on, be that blast your music or cut into the procession. Stopping as the funeral party pass/bowing your head/crossing yourself/doffing your hat is not interfering - it is a respectful reaction that can mean a lot to mourners & as such is a good thing to do. It is one of those small things that can have a huge impact.
This has taken me so long to write the thread will probably have moved on massively. Ho-hum.
Much sympathy-empathy to all those who have had to endure the death of someone(s) dear to them. Growlithe, I hope today is as unawful as is possible. Sometimes it amazes me that it can still hurt so much, but as well as acknowledging there are fresh hurts in the points in my life when I specially want her there (e.g. graduation) I also know that the pain is the flipside of the wonderful relationship I had with my mother. I could not hurt so much had I not been so loved - which is why I miss my grandparents so much too. The love is worth the pain, though - and the memory of it is so comforting.