Monday, October 8, 2012
Bury Me in a Cardboard Box, Please
Someday, I'm going to die, and there's something about that which I want to prepare you all for. This will be morbid, but it needs to be said, and I want it on record.
If Cindy follows my wishes, then when you say your goodbyes to the dried out shell I leave behind, you'll notice that I'm in a cardboard box.
On the one hand, I hope that this won't offend you. On the other hand, I'll be dead at the time, so I don't really care either way. And that's ultimately the point.
Funeral directors make a killing (sorry) because of survivor guilt. They know the surviving spouse feels guilty because they're still alive, and they know that this topic is not one that most folks want to have with each other when they're alive. A few well placed comments about "preserving" our loved ones and "honoring" the dead, and you've spent more money on the stiff while they were above ground.
Here's the deal, folks; I don't want to be preserved. I don't want to be embalmed just to make it easier to get everyone to the funeral; I'd much prefer you left my organs in place when you plant me. I do not want to be buried in a lead lined steel canister guaranteed to keep out the worms; in fact, I happen to know that if you don't allow a casket at least an outgoing pressure valve, then the build up of gases as we decompose will cause the coffin to explode.
I'm not fooling around, folks. A decent service should cost no more than about 2k, absolute tops, and I hope someone will man up and remind my wife of this, and help her obey my wishes, so as to keep my family from getting screwed.
I don't care what impression my final arrangements make, but I care very much about the welfare of my family after I go. The ridiculous amount of cash used in most funerals will be much better spent on the living, and they'll need it.
So please, when that day comes, don't send flowers. Instead, help my family in whatever way you can. Help my wife, if I go first. Help my children, if they can't fend for themselves yet. I don't plane to leave them penniless, mind, but there's a lot of us Dyers.