When your most beloved person in the world, your father, dies in your arms a few days before you turn 21, you MAY become sort of aware of impending mortality. At least I did, back on July 14, 1982.
Over the years, I have played a dark parlor game of being the first to tell my friends when someone dies, particularly if they're our age or younger. I guess it's my way of reminding us all that, as Jim Morrison wrote, no one here gets out alive.
Dad was an iconoclast -- raised Orthodox, but never felt it. He was proudly Jewish and a Zionist, but felt the religion part, the hocus pocus, as he called it, was silly. When it came to thinking about his burial, he was also a product of his hero, Ralph Nader, champion of the consumer, who wrote stinging exposes of the horrors of the funeral industry -- how they prayed on grieving survivors for great profit. He was correct, of course. Over my career, I have seen how funeral directors indeed exploit poor families -- having them give up life savings since the decedent "deserves the best."
So Dad acted -- he decided he wanted to be cremated, at the time by a newly formed company, the Neptune Society, which did the burning, and then spread the cremains at sea (supposedly), and then giving the family a certificate with the coordinates of where the spreading took place. When Dad died, at Bethesda Hospital, I asked the social worker to contact Neptune, and they did, and about a month later we got a bill for a few hundred dollars and a letter stating Dad was put into the ocean off Pompano Beach.
Mom wanted the same -- she actually prepaid for her cremation, reminding me yearly of that fact. In her final, addled 11 months, a frum doctor tried to talk her out of it to opt for a Jewish funeral with burial. I stood up to him -- reminding him my Mom had her wishes, and his duties were to the living, not any afterlife. He backed off, when Mom died the Neptunes came, and a few weeks later sent me a FedEx with a wooden box inside of which was a heavy plastic bag sealed with a lead seal. The following day, the Ds, Wifey, and I spread Mom's cremains into Biscayne Bay off Matheson Hammock.
I wanted the same, and Wifey agreed. First, avoiding the "final rip off." Also, Wifey liked the idea of our heirs visiting us at the beautiful ocean. I had converted Wifey, though her parents opted for a traditional service. A few weeks ago, we went for my suegra's memorial -- 2 years had passed.
But I had a change of heart. I guess the decades of Rabbi Yossi and Paul's entreaties got to me. That, and the fact that I had a change of heart -- why not do it the traditional way? Wifey said, in effect -- no way, buster. You convinced me, and into the ocean we're going. I was fine with that, but at a family dinner, the Ds and sons in law chimed in -- they all felt we ought to go traditional.
And Wifey came around -- fine -- but she wasn't going to do any of the planning! I called Mt. Nebo the following day, and spoke to Kenny, the undertaker. Sunday Wifey and I have an appointment to maybe buy some small amounts of real estate.
Turns out, they're running a special: zero financing for 5 years. I never finance anything, but I figure if I do that, Wifey and I get to live at LEAST another 5 years.
We'll choose the simplest, of course -- just a graveside service, and plain coffins, and a small marker. I have an entire BAG of funeral puns that I am sure Kenny has heard thousands of times, but will from me just the same. "So Kenny -- everyone needs a friend to let them down one last time, right?"
The Ds are on their own -- too young to consider these issues -- and I am NOT buying a family plot -- they're like $40K!
I'm not sure whether there is space near my suegros -- doesn't matter to Wifey and me where we go. It would be the supreme irony, though, if there was next world communication -- my in laws, may they rest in peace, were the most annoying people in my life. An eternity of questions and being talked AT by my father in law...
So the plan is to get 'er done and hope the Ds don't have to deal for a good, long time.
Our Baby Man turned 2 yesterday, and we're fetching him at camp today, with his dog Lemon in tow. We took Lemon to Homestead yesterday, to a doggie cardiologist. Cavaliers have heart problems, and D1 wanted her new, shy puppy checked out -- he is completely normal.
So Lemon will get some of Baby Man's cake this afternoon.
Yes -- much better to do the living things in life -- but ya gotta deal with the death crap, too -- or someone does.
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