I was in problem-solving mode for the last two days helping with clean-up after my uncle's passing. It's a weird mixture of being seriously focused, protective, sympathetic, and silly. Seriously silly.
My uncle's will truly did say that he wanted to be cremated with minimal expense and no services whatsoever. So we showed up at the appointed time at the medical examiner's office, and of course because it's Philly we're all about finding parking. But there are spaces designated for "bereaved family members only." And we were, like, well I guess that's us, let's try to act bereaved.
My uncle had made arrangements with the veteran's cremation society.
A elderly gentleman who looked exactly like you would expect an undertaker to look met us.
The first thing he did was present a flag to my cousin. With thanks from a grateful nation...
Cousin turned to my auntie and gave it to her. Auntie looked at me.
I lost it. I was not expecting that. Uncontrollable tears just poured down my face as my cousin and auntie were reviewing all the details and costs. They turned away from the cremator and said, "Are you OK???" Which is almost the same way that my Grandma asked me when I was uncontrollably crying at my great aunt's funeral when I was 12 - Grandma said, "Haven't you ever been to a funeral before? Geez." Geez, Grandma I was 12 and it was my first funeral ever. I didn't really have that excuse now, though. I was wiping the tears away with my sweater sleeves which may I add were on day two of cleaning up uncle's apartment and they smelled rather, well, like nothing I have ever smelled before. Am I OK?
"Yes. I'm just acting bereaved so we can keep the parking space."
Uncle's instructions were followed by selection of a cardboard box for the cremation and a cardboard box for the ashes. We laughed at cousin's remark that my uncle would just looooove the fact that he left the earth in a cardboard box, which would be sent to Minnesota. Then cousin asked undertaker, "How long will it take?" meaning, to get the ashes delivered to Minnesota.
Undertaker said, "Three-and-a-half hours."
We looked at each other with those holy-shit-what-the-fuck-that-was-too-much-information-we-didn't-really-want-to-know-shit glances, and I lost it again. Cousin clarified, no, no, how long will it take for me to receive the ashes... "Oh, well, we'll cremate on Monday and you should get the box by the end of the week. You'll want to make sure that, even though it will arrive by registered mail, that it is not left by the postal carrier in a wet area." Um, EW.
And I said, with more tears, "Three-and-a-half hours! But he was so small!"
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