Aggregate Death
This Funeral Isn’t About You
That’s what I wanted to say.
If you know me, you know that I tend to be blunt. Awkwardly so.
Being that blunt objects aren’t allowed at funerals, I’ve learned the art of professional speak.
Situation Number 1:
Blunt Caleb: “When we picked your dad up from the nursing home, he was looking all purple and reddish, but after we embalmed him, we were able to flush the discoloration out of his face.”
Professional speak, “Your dad looks great.”
Situation Number 2:
Blunt Caleb: “Do you want that beard shaved off your mom’s face?”
Professional speak Caleb ignores asking that question all together and just shaves mom’s face.
Americans — maybe even Westerns as a whole — are impatient. We rarely have quiet. The TV’s constantly on. Our smart phones are ever at our side. Ear buds in our ears. Meditation is a foreign concept. Prayer is avoidable at all costs. And the patience learned in the silence is never attained. And then comes death and the silence that comes with it. The meditation. The prayer. The lack of words. And when the results of grief work don’t come immediately, we become impatient and think, “Something is dreadfully wrong with me!” And we’re right. We usually conclude that we’re deeply depressed; the reality may simply be that we’re deeply and intrinsically impatient, unable to find the peace in the silence that comes from death. Maybe we’re just as afraid of the silence as we are of death.
Death brings its own pace of life … its own schedule. It’s never convenient. But we want it to be. We want to control it. We want to put it on an itinerary that fits our fast paced, purpose driven lifestyles.
Perhaps that battle for control is nowhere more apparent than at a viewing, especially when the viewing line mimics the slow moving, long lines we see at a popular amusement park ride.
This past Saturday night, I stood there behind the register book, striking up conversation with people as they enter the sanctuary. The viewing line snakes around the church, down the hall and into the basement as we try to extend it through the corridors of the church so as to keep the line from going out into the cold elements of a Pennsylvania winter. The family of the deceased is taking their time, talking to each and every person who has come out on this chilly night.
“Other funeral directors stand by the family’s receiving line and tell them to keep their conversations short and simply”, one person stated.
“We don’t do that”, I said politely.
Another couple comes through the line and complains that they’ve been standing in line for half-an-hour AND by the look of things, they’ll probably be in line for another half-an-hour. “Can’t you do anything?” they beg.
I try to make a joke … I tell them that, like Disney World, we are going to create an express line, where you can bypass the crowd for a fee. “That’s a great idea”, they say. “We’d pay $50 to skip this line.”
After having this conversation about 10 times over the next hour, I’m getting tired of my joke and I’m getting tired of people complaining.
I want to pull them close to my face and whisper, “This isn’t about you.” But that would be blunt Caleb speaking and that Caleb isn’t allowed around death.
Perhaps the greatest loss that comes with the drone of our busy lives is that in losing silence, we’ve lost patience, and in losing patience we’ve become so inherently selfish that when we go to a funeral we forget that it’s not about us.
Memories Transformed: 3 Stitch Creations
Today’s guest post is by “3 Stitch Creations”:
Many people are surprised to hear our business is actually based on death – while that is not all we work with; it is the thing closest to our hearts and the dearest to work with. We create Memory Quilts and Memory Animals from clothing and materials. The remnants of a life lived.
We each get up every day, and unless we are a hard core nudist, we put on clothing. We have drawers and closets packed full of shirts, pants, coats, PJs and even our delicates. These are all still there when we are not. Someone is left with the job of trying to decide what to do with all those items and for most, that decision is wrapped with a ton of emotion. We can still be seen in that favorite shirt, we are resurrected for a moment by the tie we got at Christmas or the pants we clung to til the end. Often, the thought of letting those memories go, to just toss them or donate them seems so cold and unbearable to those left behind with the pieces.
We offer another option – transform them. Let them continue to bring smiles and warmth to those who are left. From the grandma or grandpa who lived a long full life leaving a trail of love and laughter to the teenager that never came home to the infant who never celebrated a birthday – we have worked over their clothing and materials with a great amount of reverence and tears. It is always an honor to get to work with another’s life, to give hope and comfort in the midst of loss and pain.
It is why we started. We too have loved and lost. While we rarely personally meet many of our clients, their gratitude comes through in the emails and pictures they send us. A child napping with the bear from his grandfather’s uniforms, a mother hugging a quilt of her son’s favorite jeans and t-shirts, or a father saluting the flags his father used to fly now transformed for his kids to hang on to. Each moment, each breath was wrapped in some type of clothe that we creatively and uniquely give our full attention to capture and return to safe keeping.
Don’t let the thought of losing them be the end – consider another option, a transformation, a new life –the memories can be kept alive with Memory Quilts or Memory Animals.
You can visit “3 Stitch Creation’s” website HERE.
What Happens To Your Money When You Die?
The most I’ve ever had in my bank account was 15K. My account usually hovers around the “just enough to make it” mark. I might have more if I didn’t have such an intense addiction to my ever growing high-end shoe collection (see above). And, of course, it’s extremely expensive to maintain and feed my unicorn. Even though I don’t have much money now, I do hope that by the time my number is called, I’ll have money and assets to give away in my older age and when I die.
A couple days ago I read an old will and testament on Tumblr. It was written at the turn of the century by a wealthy old gent who wanted all his funds to go to “the orphans”. He explicitly stated that he wanted a very simple funeral so “as much money as possible can go to help the little ones.” I like that. I like the idea of leaving an inheritance.
On a side note: A trend I’m seeing more and more is that the elder generation doesn’t have an inheritance to give to charity when they die. And the main reason is this: senior living centers and nursing homes take away a life’s savings in a matter of a couple years. Nursing homes can certainly be a good thing, but on many levels, they’ve been abused, taking away the next generation’s financial — and spiritual (there might be a better word than spiritual) — inheritance.
When I die, I want to know that my wealth is being recycled into something I believe in.
I want my money to keep working after I’m dead.
I want the charity in my life to be reflected in my death.
Leaving an inheritance — both in life and in finance — is my idea of the good death.
As of 2015, 128 billionaires or former billionaires have signed the The Giving Pledge. It means that by the time the billionaire dies — or after they die — one half of their money will go to charity.
Bill Gates, who has 68 billion to his name, will only leave 10 million to each of his children (.00015 of his fortune), stating that his money wouldn’t be good for them. He’s already given 28 billion to charity. And he too has signed “The Giving Pledge”.
George Lucas (the creator of Star Wars) recently sold his Lucasfilm Limited to Disney for 4 billion dollars and plans to donate it all to education.
Of course it’s easy for these guys to donate their money. They’ve got it made. They could live better off the interest of their wealth than we could off our full income.
And while we can’t give like Bill Gates or George Lucas, charity isn’t always about capacity, but sacrifice. I have less capacity than Bill Gates, but I intend to give above my means.
So what happens to your money after you die?
Have you thought about charity?
It’s really common for people’s obituaries to contain the line “in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to this charity …”
What charity would you have in your obituary?
Because, as you probably already know, you can’t take it with you.
Mike the Headless Chicken
Via the website, Mike the Headless Chicken
September 10th, 1945 finds a strapping (but tender) young rooster pecking through the dust of Fruita, Colorado. The unsuspecting bird had never looked so delicious as he did that, now famous, day. Clara Olsen was planning on featuring the plump chicken in the evening meal. Husband Lloyd Olsen was sent out, on a very routine mission, to prepare the designated fryer for the pan. Nothing about this task turned out to be routine. Lloyd knew his mother-in-law would be dining with them and would savor the neck. He positioned his ax precisely, estimating just the right tolerances, to leave a generous neck bone. “It was as important to suck-up to your mother-in-law in the 40’s as it is today.” A skillful blow was executed and the chicken staggered around like most freshly terminated poultry.
Then the determined bird shook off the traumatic event and never looked back. Mike (it is unclear when the famous rooster took on the name) returned to his job of being a chicken. He pecked for food and preened his feathers just like the rest of his barnyard buddies.
When Olsen found Mike the next morning, sleeping with his “head” under his wing, he decided that if Mike had that much will to live, he would figure out a way to feed and water him. With an eyedropper Mike was given grain and water. It was becoming obvious that Mike was special. A week into Mike’s new life Olsen packed him up and took him 250 miles to the University of Utah in Salt Lake City . The skeptical scientists were eager to answer all the questions regarding Mike’s amazing ability to survive with no head. It was determined that ax blade had missed the jugular vein and a clot had prevented Mike from bleeding to death. Although most of his head was in a jar, most of his brain stem and one ear was left on his body. Since most of a chicken’s reflex actions are controlled by the brain stem Mike was able to remain quite healthy.
In the 18 MONTHS that Mike lived as “The Headless Wonder Chicken”he grew from a mere 2 1/2 lbs. to nearly 8 lbs. In an interview, Olsen said Mike was a “robust chicken – a fine specimen of a chicken except for not having a head.” Miracle Mike took on a manager, and with the Olsens in tow, set out on a national tour. Curious sideshow patrons in New York , Atlantic City , Los Angeles , and San Diego lined up to pay 25 cents to see Mike. The “Wonder Chicken” was valued at $10,000 and insured for the same. His fame and fortune would earn him recognition in Life and Time Magazines. It goes without saying there was a Guinness World Record in all this. While returning from one of these road trips the Olsens stopped at a motel in the Arizona desert. In the middle of the night Mike began to choke. Unable to find the eyedropper used to clear Mike’s open esophagus Miracle Mike passed on.
There “Headless Chicken” paraphernalia HERE at the website.
