Disclaimer: this post is all meant in good fun. And Mr. Always Random did give me permission to write it.
Morbid though this is, as of late, my MIL has been directing us on certain things she does not want to happen when she dies.
She’s made it clear, for years now actually and in no uncertain terms, that she does NOT want to be cremated.
And that’s fine. We weren’t planning on it anyway, but the rebel in me (Ha! That’s funny because I am not rebellious at all…you probably already knew that) almost wants to cremate her. Almost.
Don’t worry…I won’t. Probably. Unless my husband and his sister both go before she does, I may toy with the idea.
OK, I won’t, even though I don’t fully understand her reason against cremation. All she will say when the topic comes up is this: “Do you KNOW what they do to bodies when they cremate them?”
My reply: “Yes, yes I do.” And I always want to add, but never have: “Do you KNOW what they do to bodies when they go to an embalmer?”
I am so respectful.
However clear she is with her directives, I think she’s still somewhat leery of what we would actually do when the time comes, so a few weeks ago she announced that she’s going to plan her funeral ahead of time.
You know, I think that would be best. And here’s how that phrase sounded in my head (wait for it…and my apologies for the ad at the beginning…I do the best I can with what I have):
She’s wise to make those arrangements…seeing as how my brain works like it does: always going for the laugh. I wonder where my 10yo gets that…’tis a mystery.
She’s also specified that she would like to be buried in sparkles. That really did not need to be specified; we’ve met. When Mr. Always Random and I got married, my MIL out-sparkled the bride.
I’m not bitter...15 ½ years later.
This week, my MIL made it clear to me (she specified me, because clearly I am the epitome of tacky and unsophisticated) that when she passes away, she doesn't want me to put her stuff out in the lounge area of her apartment building for people to just take what they want. (Apparently someone in her building had recently died and that’s what her family did: put her things out for people to take what they wanted. Personally, I thought it seemed rather altruistic, but not everyone saw it that way. Again, I am so respectful.)
My MIL was quite prescriptive that we were to box her things up and take it all to Goodwill. (I did not go into my diatribe on Goodwill and tell her that Salvation Army would be a better choice…it won’t matter because she won’t even know. I might stand my ground on that when the time comes…we shall see.)
Before I continue, I feel that I must first pause and explain something: from here on out, “the apartment building” shall be referred to as “the dorm,” because to be honest, that’s the kind of situation we have going on in there, only without the classes (or class either: just a couple months ago, a couple guys…grown men who were definitely old enough to know better…it’s 55 and over place, for the love…anyway, a couple guys were arrested and thrown out of the apartment for fighting in the lounge.)
People are always sitting around, playing cards or the Wii, or chit-chatting.
Sometimes there is loud 80’s rock blasting from a balcony (oh yes…no joke).
They have a pitch-in meal every Sunday afternoon…because you know how it is: the dorms don’t have meal service on Sunday nights. (OK, this place doesn’t have meal service at all…everyone has their own kitchen; it’s just my own little joke that makes me chuckle.)
All in all, it sounds suspiciously like college, right?
Anyway, my MIL also went on to mention a lady in her dorm who always compliments her on a certain top that she wears. She said she’d given this same lady a pair of earrings and another top she had complimented her on.
This same woman later confided in a friend (and that friend then told my MIL): “All I have to do is tell her I like something she’s wearing and she gives it to me.”
So all that to say, my MIL told us to not give that woman this specific top…or anything else.
My husband then proceeded to tell his mother that we would be sure to cremate her in the top so no one, especially this specific woman, would have it.
I love that man.
Editor's Note: After writing this post, I asked Mr. Always Random if he could recall any additional stipulations I had neglected to include. He reminded me that his mother has specified who "will" perform the service and who "will" give the eulogy. And then he added, "I don't know if that's really fodder for the blog. Or mudder, as the case would be here."
How can I not adore him?