Dealing With Afterwards (Part I)
One of my favorite coffin-buying stories was told to me by the television chef Nigella Lawson about her own mother. Year ago at age 49, Vanessa Lawson was diagnosed with liver cancer and given just weeks to live.
Nigella, 25 at the time of her mother’s diagnosis, got the diagnosis from her mother’s physician. That is correct. She was phoned by Dr. Bad News, who left it to her to deliver the results to her mother — a medical practice more common than you might think.
However, even on learning that she was about to die from her own daughter, Vanessa seemed poised and in control. There was on her part no anger or resentment. Her daughters actually sensed an element of relief in their mother (”She actually seemed quite pleased she would likely still be only 49 when she died,” Nigella recalled).
Just two weeks later Nigella dropped in on her mother, only to find her exquisitely dressed and holding court. By Vanessa’s side was an undertaker, and the two were leafing through a large book crammed with illustrations and prices — of various caskets.
“This one, I think is by far the best,” said Vanessa, pointing a varnished nail at her favorite picture.
“And who would it be for, Madam?” the undertaker inquired.
“For me!” Vanessa replied, bestowing a gracious smile on her guest.
I would suggest, having just paid a visit to my own neighborhood funeral parlor, that you might want to do the same — but preferably while you’re still healthy. Pick and choose. (Funeral directors, who have their own euphemisms, like to call this sort of planning “pre-need”).
It’s better than leaving this consumer purchaser to your heirs just minutes after you’ve died. Not exactly the time for the people you love to make sound fiscal judgments, is it?
This kind of advance planning is especially important because these days death is such a ridiculously expensive procedure. In fact for most people, funeral arrangements are among the most expensive purchases they will ever make.
And they just don’t have to be.
The most reckless thing people can do with their hard-earned money is splurge it on what I like to call temporary housing. A mahogany casket with a champagne velvet interior can set you back $11,200 at my neighborhood funeral parlor. Think about it. Will the deceased really appreciate the champagne velvet interior? Will anyone? How many people are going to come back in a year’s time and admire the trappings of death?
If you want to save a bundle, start now. Next week I’ll tell you how. In detail.
