My funeral arrangements were made by...

Me!!!

What a surreal thing to do. But, actually, fascinating.

Here’s the thing. I don’t want to leave behind a mess. I know too many people who, for whatever reason, have not even drawn up a will. People my age, which is 77. When you should have a will. Thus, upon their demise, leaving a mess for others to contend with.

I live with my girlfriend, Gaywynn, in rural Louisiana. She has enough of my messes to deal with while I’m alive.

I do have a will. I also have made arrangements for my funeral. And paid for them. I made these arrangements nine years ago in 2014. So, thinking it was a good idea to update some information and to ask a few questions about the process, I called the funeral home.

I spoke with a woman named CC. She walked me through everything patiently. Let me do the same for you. I know—just what you were hoping I’d do!

The first thing I wanted to know was what, exactly, happens after I die? I don’t mean cosmically or physiologically, but practically. “Should my girlfriend call you after I die?” I asked CC.

“That depends,” CC said. Her voice was soothing. Utterly relaxing. “If you’re in hospice at home, then it would be good for the hospice nurse to call us a few days before. If you die at a hospital, or suddenly, then your body might have to go to the coroner and then someone would call us after the body is released.”

My final destination. Isn’t it lovely? Note stained glass windows.

I was following my own body as it made its way through this process. I was in CC’s capable hands. Suddenly, I had this Pietà-like vision of her cradling my body in her arms. Well, let’s not get too crazy here. Let’s just say it was comforting going through this with her. She was straightforward and clear without being sentimental. Hard thing to do.

“So, everything is already paid for, right?” I was reconfirming. I didn’t want any hidden clauses jumping out of the casket, startling Gaywynn.

“Yes, except…”

Uh-oh.

“You have money set aside for certain charges, but these charges may have changed since you took out your policy. For example,” she said, “in 2014, the coroner’s fee in New Orleans parish was $30. Now it’s $150. So, your girlfriend might have to pay for the difference.”

That seems fair. Inflation. To be expected. “But other than that,” I said, “the charges are taken care of? The cremation costs?” That was my preferred choice of disposal.

“Yes. The only matter to be resolved is what to do with your ashes. We can mail them to your girlfriend. Or we can keep them here until she comes to get them.”

Via regular mail? Actually, I haven’t thought about what I want to do with my ashes. Or, should I say, what I want done with my ashes. I don’t have any spread-them-at-sea scenarios. I’ll have to think about that. I can’t afford to have them shot out of cannon, à la Hunter S. Thompson, though that sounds appealing. Ideas, anyone? DM me.

She also walked me through the process of how the funeral home would retrieve my body. CC was so pleasant, I almost wanted to let her take my body right then and there. I wasn’t talking from beyond the grave, but near to it. I felt reassured knowing CC might be there to watch over me.

By the way, whenever I talk about these kinds of post-mortem things with Gaywynn, she looks at me sternly and says, “You die, I’ll kill you.”

I thanked CC for everything.

“It’s good to have all the details worked out,” she said.

I said it definitely was.

“You sound like you’re in good health,” CC said.

“Knock on wood!”

“We don’t want to see you anytime soon!”