Mom and I went to the funeral home today. She made the reservation, but she hasn't checked in, although she quipped that if she "popped off" it would save $150 on transportation. The funeral director was clearly not used to people who are so forthright about such things, but he's never met my family.
My mom's side of the family talk about funerals. We talk about funerals a great deal. A few years ago, the little village church where my mother and her siblings were baptized, some of them were married or buried, celebrated its 75th anniversary. My mom's whole side of the family went to the celebration, and we wandered the graveyard behind the church to visit the rest of the family before dinner. My father is buried there-he bought the plot when my grandfather died because he was close to my grandfather and wanted to be buried with mom's family. My mother and my aunt always joked they had to stay on good turns because they would be lying beside each other forever, and mom perked right up when she found out that "Katie" was on the other side, because "Katie was always lots of fun." Death is a normal part of our conversation.
My dad died suddenly in his sleep, and he and mom had never had the conversation. We didn't know what his wishes were, other than we knew he wanted to be buried in the graveyard at St. Eugene because that's where he bought the plot. We knew he wanted a Catholic mass, but as for the rest of it...we guessed.
Since then, mom and I have had numerous discussions, and lately, mom was talking about it a great deal-daily, sometimes hourly. She had scrimped and saved her money to ensure she had enough money to bury her. She did without to ensure the bank balance didn't drop below a set number, and if it did, she put it back. When CCAC came to talk to us, the case manager mentioned that we might as well pre-pay the funeral, because otherwise, mom would be expected to use all the funds in her bank account first. So that is how we ended up planning mom's funeral today.
My mother is very clear about her wishes. The casket was to be closed. If it was open, she would reach up and close it herself and then haunt me for all eternity. Since all the family ghosts come and visit me, I knew she wasn't kidding. When the Catholic church changed their stance on cremation, mom's wishes became simpler. Cremate her before the funeral and dispense with pallbearers. "Who'd lug me up those stairs anyway..." She wants a Catholic mass, and then burial "down home." No visitation, no fuss, a lunch under protest. She's been a member of her church since 1990, but she doesn't like the current priest, but she does like the priest at my church, so she'd like the funeral at the church who has the priest she likes. Since you have to cater a lunch at her church, and the CWL provides the lunch at mine, it added more strength to her choice. Top it off with the fact that our church choir is better than her church choir, barring the tiny issue that I'm the funeral cantor and would probably rather not sing at my mother's funeral, although I DID sing at my mother-in-law's internment, and as far as mom was concerned, problem solved.
It's not quite that simple for me, although I will respect her wishes. I mentioned the haunt me for all eternity part, didn't I? I wanted the funeral to be at mom's church so I could walk away and never go back to the reminder. Having the funeral at my church, while comforting on one level, is stressful on another. I really didn't want the funeral in my place of solace.
I know what readings mom wants. I know what hymns mom wants. More important, I know what hymns mom doesn't want. Having this pre-paid means mom gets what she wants. When my father died, mom tried to accommodate the wishes of dad's family, even if it meant ignoring mine. My uncle, dad's brother, wanted an open casket. I didn't, even if I did iron the shirt he was buried in.If my cousin hadn't been right behind me when I walked in the room, I would have fallen flat on my butt because my legs collapsed when I saw dad in the casket. I caused a minor family kaffuffle because I refused to go up to the front. My father was many things, but lipstick wearing was not one of them. I wanted to remember daddy as he was, not as he was stuffed.
Mom's funeral and burial is set. It's written down, it's paid for and now mom knows it's settled.
I don't think the funeral director quite knew what to make of a mother and daughter with the black sense of humour, making quips about checking in, casket closing and strapping the urn in the backseat to take mom home. Mom said we could just put her in a ziploc until I found an urn. The funeral director did a double take at that one.Unlike my father's burial, we won't need the funeral home to carry the body-we'll take mom ourselves. We'll have to hunt down a priest down home to do the burial-mom won't pay to fetch one from here. Surely someone in our family can turn up a priest, a deacon, a shaman, a minister-someone will preside when the time comes.
Sometimes my twisted sense of humour is a help. Today was one of those days.
I'm hoping that in true Murphy's law fashion, pre-planning will prolong the necessity. One of her funeral readings is the passage about God's mansion having many rooms. I just hope hers isn't ready yet.
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