When my father was in the hospital I seemed to be the only one aware he was dying.
Sad, but not unusual. It generally seems that the patient is more ready to accept the dying than are the relatives. How can we give aid and comfort to those we love most, at a time they need it most, when we cannot accept the reality of the situation? When my Mother was dying of the consequences of a breast cancer left untreated too long, relatives would constantly critisize my "flippant" attitude about her illness ("the falsie looks good") and dying ("if we got a casket now, you could use it for a blanket chest until you needed it") - and all were totally aghast when I delivered my Mother's favorite nightgown and slippers to the Mortuary for her burial - hey, that's what she wanted! And how you do for your loved ones if you can't talk about "what's wanted".
der Brucer
PS: The ever critical relatives (is that redundant?) were equally appalled at how freely we poured the booze at the reception after the funeral. It seemed to me that Mom would be appalled if the guests at her party were treated any other way.
PPS: I also learned a lesson about "Funerals are for the living, not the dead". My Dad left it to me to pick out a casket.
The family had had discussion about the issue, and the consensus was clear - the simplest plain old wooden box would be perfect - don't waste money on something to bury in the ground. The Funeral Director directed me to the basement where the caskets were displayed (how appropriate) and said, "They all have the prices marked, pick what you'd like - if you have any questions I'll be upstairs".
This will be easy, I thought - go for the cheapest. Well, the cheapest was some God-forsaken (pardon the expression) alluminum monster with grey flocking. No way, said I, am I going to stand in church next to this monstrosity! So we upped the ante to appease my pride.
