Saturday, December 4, 2010

I'm dying to tell you...

I don’t think there’s anything creepier than planning for your own funeral. I was visiting my mom last week and there was a package sitting on the floor from a company called the Neptune Society. I asked her what was in it and she said “my urn”. I was like……. “WHAT? What do you mean your urn?”   She said, “Well, I think it’s my urn, but the box is too heavy for me to pick up”. Heavy?  It’s empty…what could possibly be heavy in an urn that is not holding a body. And she ordered her own urn? Seriously? Ewwww!!!!!! Really, really creepy!
I lifted the 28 lb. box trying to figure out what could make an empty urn so heavy. I opened the package and saw the most beautiful wooden box inside made of mahogany. It was larger than I expected and definitely not in the shape I imagined an urn to be. It was a BOX. Our bodies are going to be ashes in a BOX. A beautiful box, nevertheless, but a box.  And it was causing me to go to places in my head I was hoping to never go to…like how big a pile would human’s ashes make?  And how heavy would they be? And what happens to our teeth? We need a BOX this big? I don’t know if it will fit on my mantle. Do I want to have conversations with a BOX on my mantle?  I mean, who wants to go there? I sure didn’t…but it was kind of hard not to.
I opened the box and inside were more beautiful boxes, a candle, a beautiful wooden square block for god only knows what, and note cards. HUH? Should my mom write the cards prior to the memorial, thanking everyone for coming? Could you imagine being the recipient of a thank you note from someone who just passed away? And who of her friends would still be alive by the time her time came? So many questions I don’t know the answers to. And honestly…I’m kinda glad I don’t know the answers. But I can’t imagine what my mom was going through planning all this.
And what were all those other boxes for? There must be some ritual we are not aware of that those are used for. Sprinkle a little in each to hand out as souvenirs at the memorial? As everyone is leaving you hand them a little box, “Thank you for coming. Here’s your parting gift”. 

Why are we going to that place no one really wants to go to until we have to? We will have enough time to think about that once she kicks the bucket. Again…did not want to know the answers at this point in my life, or my mother’s life. She is still living, for god’s sake. And where will we put her. She’s not really any help either…her answer is…  “I don’t really give a shit…I’ll be dead”. Well if you don’t give a shit, why’d you order such a beautiful, expensive box. I guess that’s why my dad is still sitting in my sister’s garage, in another box within his box. Really?  She couldn’t give him the guest room? At least make his box more comfortable than in the cold, damp garage. I, personally, would rather sprinkle him on the golf or tennis course. Those were his passions. But noooooo…he’s hanging out with the luxury cars in my sister’s garage. At least he’s in good company. Although cars weren’t his thing. I’m sure he’d rather be in the closet with the sports equipment. Or maybe at my mom’s house waiting for her box to be by his box. I think for my mom’s box…I’m going to have a picture of her head pop out on a spring every time I open it.

                      At least that will make me smile.


  1. Well, I'm still here and laughing so hard at Jaime's blog. You have to take the thought of death, laughing. That's why I'm still here!

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