We’ve officially done death both ways now: the sudden, unexpected passing (ie…the keel over) and the long goodbye (ie…dementia sucks). We certainly didn’t mean to do both in such close proximity on the calendar, but I suppose the timing offers a great opportunity to compare the two.
My conclusion? I’d prefer something in the middle with a strong lean toward the quick end side.
In tandem with the two deaths of two different natures, we were also able to experience two very different roads in post-death planning.
In one case (the keel over), we had nothing more than a dead body waiting for us to figure out what the hell we were supposed to do next.
In the other case (the long goodbye), we had everything. Everything.
My father simply pulled out a folder from the back of his filing cabinet that had been tucked away seven years prior when he and my mother organized their post-life arrangements. In that folder was a receipt and a phone number that may as well have said, “Dial if you find yourself sitting next to a dead body.”
Option two was the clear winner in post-life arrangements and I cannot thank my parents enough for this gift.
It was as if, after the chaotic and traumatic experience of my mother-in-law’s sudden death and lack of arrangements, the universe gifted us with a slam dunk.
We deserved it, if I’m being honest.
From a financial standpoint? For the love of Elf on the Shelf, we should all be making those post-life plans ahead of time. Not to sound clinical, but the difference between arranging all the things in the hours after someone dies versus pre-arranging all the things years is nearly ten thousand dollars.
Is that ridiculous? Of course, it is. I’m sure everyone of us has heard the cost of a cremation and thought, “What the eff? Couldn’t I just do it myself!?!” The answer is no.
The “no” means that when you do ring up a random funeral home and request that Uber for the Unalive, they have you by the short and curlies. You’ll say yes to just about anything because your brain feels like someone dipped into it with a mixer, taking away any logical answers. The best you can do is nod your head while thinking, “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t we get a cremation casket lined with fabric sourced from silkworms found only on a Malaysian mountain top?”
Cremation casket for the unprepared: $1200. Cremation casket for the planners: $150. Rental casket for a viewing that you didn’t want but felt too weird declining: $4000.
In our house, we often talk about the universe placing us exactly where we are supposed to be. We talk about things happening for a reason and exactly when or how they are supposed to happen. We also talk about how the “why’s” behind many moments may not be revealed for ages.
When Rich’s mom keeled over, we were shocked. It was, after all, supposed to be my mom who died first. My mom had been crawling that long road of dementia for years, declining slowly and at a snail’s pace, if the snail was a total dick.
Rich’s mom was simply having back surgery followed by a long rehab plan that did not include “pulmonary embolism” on any of the paperwork. How, then, did she end up being the one who died first?
We got a glimpse of the “why” the weekend my mom passed.
It was a weekend in which none of us had targeted it as “the weekend” but within hours of my arrival for a regular visit, it was clear that, yes, this would be “the weekend.”
I rarely visit my parents on the weekend as I prefer to save those for time at home and, by visiting during the week, I could touch base with the regulars at Mom’s facility (nurses, hospice, etc). We had a jam-packed February and March so, when volleying visit dates back and forth with my dad, we opted for the rare weekend visit.
It was very much out of the norm and yet it placed me exactly where I was supposed to be on those very days..
As my dad, my husband, and I sat at my mother’s bedside for three straight days, the “why” of my mother-in-law’s sudden death began to reveal itself. I was prepared to walk my father through the process of Mom dying because I had just experienced it months prior. Every question my dad launched was easily met with an answer I’d only recently acquired, albeit against my will.
What happens after she dies?
Who will write the obituary?
How will she get to the funeral home?
Does the cremation take long?
I heard myself answering each question with a soft but confident response thinking, “Oh, this is why. This is why.”
My answers, of course, were based on an experience in which none of the things were planned. My answers, though mostly correct, included timelines that were significantly shortened because this round included all the things planned years in advance.
My dad thanked Rich and I (unnecessarily) multiple times for being there with he and Mom. Of course, we wouldn’t have been anywhere else. We were exactly where we were meant to be at exactly the right moment. We look back now at all the random puzzle pieces that had to fall perfectly into place for that to happen.
Whether you believe in God, Allah, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, we were reminded again that we are not always in charge of our life’s path.
We’ve officially done death both ways now: the sudden, unexpected passing and the long goodbye.
We certainly didn’t mean to do both in such close proximity on the calendar but, looking back, I can see why it happened in that order. My mother-in-law gave us a gift, albeit one we didn’t necessarily want and one I’m sure she hadn’t planned for.
Both of our mothers gave us another gift: neither passed while we were present. When Rich’s mother died, it was just minutes after he’d left her bedside. When my mother died, it was just minutes before we arrived at hers.
In both cases, I think just how “motherly” that was–saving us from what can be an unpleasant final moment.
I am grieving, yes. We all are. But we do see the gifts and, right now, they bring comfort at the exact time it is most needed.