Justine O'Mahony uses her latest column to admit something many readers will recognize: funerals bring out the worst in her. She says plainly that she does not perform well at them, however hard she tries to look composed. Watching other mourners deliver polished tributes or offer condolences with practiced ease only deepens her sense of being out of step. Her account dwells on the small missteps and the constant worry that someone will notice her discomfort. The tone is self-deprecating, which is her usual mode when she writes about her own shortcomings. Anyone who has hovered awkwardly beside a coffin, unsure whether to speak or stay silent, will likely see themselves in her description.