I was told that there was a complimentary keepsake being offered to the family in memory of my grandmother. I just needed to pick it up. Of course when I got there they wanted me to pick out which shade of pink I'd like it to be and whether I wanted her picture at the top or bottom. This keepsake was a bookmark, of course. And because they needed my input on its design, I had to wait 20 minutes for it to be finished. And what could we possibly talk about for 20 minutes...in a conference room with nothing but sample headstones mounted on the wall? How to spend more money.
I tried to be nice to the woman, but I have my limits and she pushed the wrong button. Fine, you're a salesman. Earn your money. But don't you ever in your life use my affection for my grandmother or my daughter in an ill-conceived attempt to guilt trip me into spending money. You don't start a battle of wits with me when you're unarmed.
Me being nice = Me lying and saying that my plans are to be cremated and scattered at my favorite vacation spot. You know damned well I haven't been anywhere. Where are they gonna scatter me? The skating rink over at Anacostia Park? Put a little bit of my remains in the trashcan in front of the Snickerdoodle shop in Forestville Mall?
I even tried to just level with her and tell her I wasn't interested in anything at this time. That's when she went passive aggressive on me and started talking about how unfair it is for someone to leave managing their death to their child. "Even if it's a grandchild, I just don't think it's fair to put that burden on someone who should be grieving. You have your whole life to set something up. It's inconsiderate and irresponsible."
Really? Go on.
"I see a plot as a way of memorializing someone. I mean, what does it say about your life that you have nothing to remember it by. You're just gone leaving nothing behind."
[Inside my head was like a scene from those movies where everyone just gets up and walks out of the bar without saying a word. I tapped Nice-Guy-Me on the shoulder and told him he could go home for the night. I'll lock up.]
Though these may not be my exact beliefs, I found the words coming out of my mouth anyway...
I would hope that my legacy is more than just a headstone in the ground. It is my hope that my life would echo through the person that my daughter becomes, and the people I've touched. The things I've done will be enough of a monument to who I am.
To be honest with you, my grandmother didn't even want to be buried here at this cemetery. I mentioned it to her the week she was diagnosed with cancer and she said that she sees cemeteries and places like this as just a giant way to capitalize on people's sympathy and grief. The reason she made me power of attorney and executor of her estate is because she felt that not only was I strong enough to make the right decision, but that I wasn't stupid enough to fall victim to things like that. She told me that she'd rather me not even claim the body than to waste money on stuff that has no actual connection to who she is.
You said it yourself that people come to the cemetery to feel better by connecting with a loved one. Could not the case be made that all of this is really for the living and not necessarily for the dead? I'll do my best to raise my daughter to be balanced and when the time comes and I'm gone, then I hope she uses the insane amount of life insurance that I'm leaving to do whatever she feels comfortable with.
The lady's response..."Let me go see if your bookmark is ready."
Luckily it was ready, because that was the warm up for what I REALLY wanted to say.
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