How To Plan a Funeral For Someone Who Hasn't Died Yet

My great aunt's health is rapidly declining. Her son, my cousin, thinks that she will die soon. I know this because he wrote it in an e-mail: "I think that she will die soon." Those words were terribly stark and remote on the page. She is a fabulous woman. And apparently she's dying.

The strange thing is not that a 102-year-old woman is near death. It's sad, yes, because she is an extraordinary woman and will be grievously missed, but not in the least bit odd or unexpected. The thing that I cannot quite wrap my head around is the next thing he wrote: "I am contacting our cousin in Chireno about a graveside service there."

Planning her funeral is certainly a very practical thing to do, especially for a man who is fairly flat-footed in his approach to life. And it allows us to begin the detachment process. I remember planning my father's funeral; because his death was so unexpected, we had to quickly pull together a plan out of minds that were still grappling to understand what had happened. (I, for the record, was not helpful.) So it makes all the sense in the world to think ahead, prepare what we can, start making plans for who will care for our animals, and checking flights. It's sensible, and my great aunt was certainly that. After all, her sister--my other great aunt--wrote a traveling fund into her will so that we could all attend her funeral without undue financial burden. Now that's thinking ahead. But, honestly, this seems so macabre. I don't think I would want people planning my funeral while I laid in my bed, no matter how little life was left in me. No, sir; I wouldn't like it.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I just don't accept change well. But I can't help but wonder what she would say if she knew. Whatever it might be, I have a feeling it would be accompanied by a solid slap on our hind ends to emphasize the point. And then she'd cook us a ham.

Sigh...I miss her already.