In all affairs it’s a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted.
~Bertrand Russell
My dad is a genius, former math and science teacher, perfectionist, procrastinator, always late, and refuses to spend money. One can never win an argument with him. Not a good mix when planning a funeral. My grandfather passed and was cremated. Dad was responsible for the funeral. He did not believe in spending a ridiculous amount of money on an urn, especially when he could make a seal-tight plastic PVC pipe container and encase it in concrete. Not only was this cheaper, but he felt it would withstand years of inclement weather, deterioration, and possible rising from its buried depth if the soil became too saturated.
The family drove from their individual locations to Grandfather’s graveside service. It was time for the service, but no Dad and no ashes. We waited… and waited… and waited. Approximately an hour later, Dad showed up with Grandfather’s ashes. He was running late because he had waited too long to make his masterpiece, and the concrete hadn’t set up enough in time. My deceased grandfather, a preacher and gentle soul, would be rolling in his grave. However, he couldn’t because he was firmly encased in PVC and concrete.
Then my grandmother passed. Time for her burial in the same cemetery. Dad had realized how expensive it was to bury Grandfather, so he decided it wasn’t necessary to pay all those fees, and he didn’t set up anything with the cemetery. However, we didn’t find out about this until an hour before the service, when it was raining and he had me, in my dress, and my brother, in his suit, dig a hole with the shovels he had brought. He also brought a tamper to ensure solid compaction. My cousin, who is a preacher, and aunt and family (all very proper) drove in from out of town for the service. They arrived shortly before the service, after we had dug the hole on our own and put away the tools. My preacher cousin was going to perform the service. He began the service as we placed Grandmother, also in her sturdy PVC and concrete, into the ground.
In the middle of the service, we began to hear sirens. My side of the family was aware we had dug our own hole without permission. We watched as the police car headed in our direction, turning onto the outer road of the cemetery. I accidentally let out a variation on “oh shoot” during the middle of my cousin’s traditional religious service, and that whole side of the family was appalled, having no idea what was happening. Just as quickly as the police came toward us, they continued to drive past and on to their emergency, which luckily was not ours.
After the service, I apologized for my outburst and said that police make me nervous for some reason. We couldn’t tell them what we had done. My aunt did ask how I got mud all over my shoes and dress, but the pouring rain had helped wash away a big part of it.
So, my grandparents were buried and hopefully at peace. But then my mom passed. She was cremated as well. Of course, by now my dad feels that cemetery fees are totally outlandish. Therefore, he wants to wait until he passes so we can bury them at the same time and only incur one digging fee and cheaper overall cemetery fees. Mother, bless her heart, sits on the kitchen counter now, spending another three years to date in the place where she was stuck the majority of her life. Dad has not yet made her PVC urn.
Maybe it’s a good thing he wants to be cheap and wait until he passes to bury Mom. That way, we’ll be in charge. We’ll let Dad have his PVC pipe and concrete urn combo, but Mom will have the sweetest, most beautiful urn we can find.
~Becky G.
