Dying Better

Yesterday marked the 10 year anniversary of my father dying. It was a difficult day as we sat in the ICU room with him. The doctors had done all that they could and we had made the decision to remove support. He was a very proud, hard working man. He wouldn't want to continue as he was. Along with family, I sat by his side as he took his last breath.

I miss you dad.

Yesterday, on this 10 year anniversary, I spent the afternoon meeting with a family planning a funeral for a loved one; a husband and father to 2 sons. He was almost the same age as my father was when he passed. And, like my father, the family had removed support and sat by his side as he passed.

But this post is not so much about the process of dying. That's another thing altogether. No, this is more about what happens next.

As I sat with the family at the funeral home, I became frustrated and disheartened. The funeral director poured over all of the details, and more specifically costs, and all of the options. The family looked at caskets and vaults and print packages and flowers and on and on... As you likely know, dying is expensive. One family recently commented that for the most basic burial service it cost $10,000. This doesn't even take into account medical bills and other care. Dying is expensive. It is also complicated

This is not a rail against funeral homes. I'm not sure what it is, only I kept thinking over and over that it should be different. Somehow, some way.

Two more little examples that I have pondered. For one, why is it that the interiors of caskets are always so frilly? I don't know how many times I've thought to myself, "That is not what that person was about." My dad, for example, was a simple, plain, no frills kind of guy. I joked that I want a flat screen installed with ESPN highlights running. I don't know, maybe I'm just ranting. But another thought somewhat related; why must we dress our loved ones the way we do for burial? I'll again use my dad as an example. My dad was buried in a suit, just as most men are. My dad NEVER wore suits. To be more like him, he should have had on blue jeans, a work shirt, and his work boots. Oh, and a coffee thermos. Definitely a coffee thermos.

I usually like to make some connection to the church in my posts. I wonder if there isn't a better way for churches to die as well. And less expensive. And less complicated. Maybe, but I've gone on long enough.

It should be different. Somehow, some way. That's all I know.

Chris