A bit disturbed
Mom and I have been doing a half-way decent job of walking after work several days a week. Though we miss some days, we are at least trying most. This week, we only made it out Monday and Tuesday. And the more I think about it, I think the subject of funerals came up both days or maybe it was just a rather depressing discussion on just one day. I'm not sure, but don't think it was one continual conversation.
One day she was talking about how one of the women from work had gone by one of the funeral homes at lunch and brought back everyone in the office a brochure on the various costs of a funeral and burial. "I told the others that I couldn't afford to die," my mother says. To this, I'm not exactly sure what to say. I really don't know that I said anything. I mean, what do you answer to that. "Well, I guess I better go buy a lottery ticket?" This didn't disturb me. This was rather random. This is a fact of life.
So, then another conversation comes up. "I was telling Dad about watching Brothers and Sisters the other night and how no one had anything good to say at the funeral," my mom says. She then goes on to tell Dad's reply. He has lined out who he wants and does not want to be his pallbearers. My comment to this is, "some of those people could be rather old when the time arises."
She goes on to reveal who he wants and does not want officiating, who will say a prayer, and who may have to do more if a certain preacher is not available. OK, I can understand that. I've actually thought the same thing.
Then, she asked him where they were going to be buried. This is actually a very legitimate question. Neither particularly wants to be buried at the locales their own parents chose or the other's parents. This I have known for a long time and does not disturb me either.
Well, the fact that my dad has this all planned out, that is on the depressing side. I admit that. But, here's the zinger.
"So, I told him that I guess we should go out and buy three cemetery plots out at Oakwood."
Do you get what she means by that?
"He really wishes he had gotten the ones that So-and-So got."
My response to this, "who is going to be buried in those spots anyway?" I guess this is all that I really could say at the moment.
The more I thought about it later, the more the comment kind of hurt. And no, it's not because no one asked me where I wanted to be buried even though I do like to be asked my opinion.
Maybe I'm just being ultra-sensitive. Maybe I am just sensitive that I feel like a loser that hangs out with my parents and do too much together. Like laying around together and decomposing until the end of the Earth, just the three of us.
I relayed this story to Jenny who instantly got where I was coming from. As only a really good friend can, she said we could be buried together. I told her that would be just fine. Everyone could try to figure out why these two un-related women were buried next to each other. I'd rather get people talking about something completely innocent than for people stroll through the cemetery and say, "oh, how sad, the old maid there by her parents."
(And no, I'm really not concerned about who says what as they walk through the cemetery.)
It may be time to start seriously considering an attitude adjustment.