Follow ups
By MM on Friday 26 September 2008, 17:12 - Journal - Permalink
The crematorium called Greg this week to ask him what he wanted to do with the
ashes. They offered a couple of alternatives: placement behind a brass plaque
for $1,000, or scattering in their surrounding gardens for $180. Neither of
these options means much to either of us. I asked Greg, 'how much does it cost
to give them no answer?'
Ever since I learnt that the residual material can include remnants of the coffin, is often mixed up with ashes from other bodies, and is actually the result of fire plus pulverisation by large steel balls, my interest in ashes has fallen from zero to something less. Sentimentally, I think I would now have preferred a burial, but that is more a throwback to the past, where gravestones were the only record. I am thinking of the interest I've shown recently in the past generations of my own family. Future descendants of dad might have appreciated having a gravestone to search out, but dad is so well documented in many other forms, anyway, that a grave is completely redundant.
A couple of days after the funeral the undertakers called Greg to seek feedback on their services. He told them that we were satisfied, but there was plenty of scope for black humour in that telephone conversation:
- 'we were all waiting at the grave and no-one appeared'
- 'we weren't happy and we'd like our money back now, please'
- 'it wasn't much fun, no-one had a good time; don't your people know any jokes?'
- 'can't wait to do the same with mum'
- 'I would recommend your services to anyone who was dead'
- 'dad appeared very happy with it all'
- 'we are all still in mourning, and you call about this? Where's your sense of decorum?'
That last question reminds me of what we talked about at the time. The call came as we were all at the house. We pondered the question of how long the undertakers wait between funeral and follow-up call. If they think it's a particularly uncaring family, maybe it is only a couple of hours. If there has been prolonged and inconsolable wailing during the service, perhaps they leave it a couple of weeks? Leave it too long and the response might be 'funeral for who?'
We've also received a few cards from people who have found out about dad's death through the grapevine. It's hard to know what to do with them. I put them up for a couple of hours and then took them down again. Now I shall put them in one of the big white trunks - and defer the decision.
It isn't hard to see why primitive people believed in life after death. If one's discrimination between memory, imagination, and experience is less than precise, it is easy to believe that the dead, in the form of dreams, memories, personal or shared, references and representations, are still with us. I suppose we have a kind of half-life after death; we slowly fade away, but never completely.
Ever since I learnt that the residual material can include remnants of the coffin, is often mixed up with ashes from other bodies, and is actually the result of fire plus pulverisation by large steel balls, my interest in ashes has fallen from zero to something less. Sentimentally, I think I would now have preferred a burial, but that is more a throwback to the past, where gravestones were the only record. I am thinking of the interest I've shown recently in the past generations of my own family. Future descendants of dad might have appreciated having a gravestone to search out, but dad is so well documented in many other forms, anyway, that a grave is completely redundant.
A couple of days after the funeral the undertakers called Greg to seek feedback on their services. He told them that we were satisfied, but there was plenty of scope for black humour in that telephone conversation:
- 'we were all waiting at the grave and no-one appeared'
- 'we weren't happy and we'd like our money back now, please'
- 'it wasn't much fun, no-one had a good time; don't your people know any jokes?'
- 'can't wait to do the same with mum'
- 'I would recommend your services to anyone who was dead'
- 'dad appeared very happy with it all'
- 'we are all still in mourning, and you call about this? Where's your sense of decorum?'
That last question reminds me of what we talked about at the time. The call came as we were all at the house. We pondered the question of how long the undertakers wait between funeral and follow-up call. If they think it's a particularly uncaring family, maybe it is only a couple of hours. If there has been prolonged and inconsolable wailing during the service, perhaps they leave it a couple of weeks? Leave it too long and the response might be 'funeral for who?'
We've also received a few cards from people who have found out about dad's death through the grapevine. It's hard to know what to do with them. I put them up for a couple of hours and then took them down again. Now I shall put them in one of the big white trunks - and defer the decision.
It isn't hard to see why primitive people believed in life after death. If one's discrimination between memory, imagination, and experience is less than precise, it is easy to believe that the dead, in the form of dreams, memories, personal or shared, references and representations, are still with us. I suppose we have a kind of half-life after death; we slowly fade away, but never completely.