Dear Reader,

 

By the tone and content of my new post entitled “Life after Life: A Visit to the Reef” you may think I am both obsessed and nonchalant about death. Probably true. And perhaps that by creating some kind of narrative I am better able to cope. Definitely true and blogging helps. And if you think I am attempting to be humorous as a way to detach myself from the uncomfortable realities that come with death as yet another coping mechanism, you are triply correct. Let’s just agree that these mechanisms buoy my confidence and curiosity to proceed with this personal essay that is laced with a kind of journalistic reportage, and vice versa.

 

The personal essay is a response to my mother who popped the “cremation” question. It answers the need to address the inevitable. With my parents racing to the “endgame” I am bracing for the “moment”. Having recently lost relatives, friends, beloved animals and tragically, children I have known, I guess I am already in that moment. In a way the moment forces acceptance and I am reminded that life + life= death, albeit a somewhat nihilistic viewpoint but true no matter how you slice it.

 

I can’t help but feel an individual experience of shared mortality as an observer of the world events. As participants of society aren’t we all reminded of death as we witness hundreds of thousands of unfortunate victims of disasters perish, soldiers who have been unlucky die, and for the poor souls who, before they take their own lives, are convinced there is something better in the beyond? The death toll includes wildlife, fish and birds which, among other species, get swallowed by sloppy oil spills! My apologies for leaving out anyone or anything from this statement which is simply to underline the avalanche of death imagery and sound bites we are exposed to daily.  Mortality is fragile.

 

The reportage line of this story was simply circumstantial. The more I learned the more fascinated I became and the more I got caught up in the true story of life after life underwater options! I thank the people at the Neptune Society (like Tricia, Amber, Jim) for their patience. And so here I submit, in three parts, a new bit of muse as a way to assuage the proverbial “wolf at the door” angst that inspired “Life after Life: A Visit to the Reef”.

 

PART ONE  

 

My 85 year old mother leaves a message.

“Honey, would you call me? I got a letter from the Neptune Society.”

Interesting, I think, she usually calls about lunch dates, mail order steaks and Easter eggs.

So I’m curious. When I think of the Neptune Society I think of a tearful scenario in which people are standing at the edge of a boat throwing ashes overboard. Sometimes the ashes blow back into the faces of the crying and stick there.

“Mom, are you feeling okay?” Normal question to ask when there is a reference to funerary details.

“Fine. What should I do?”  Did she mean with the letter, or herself?

 “Gee Mom, are you getting ready? Did you get the call?”

“No, I told you, it’s a letter, signed by someone.”

That’s not what I had meant, but it was easier not to explain.

 “If I pay for it now it will be cheaper.” She added.

This did not need explaining, either.

 

The Neptune Society is corporate big business. It is the largest cremation outfit in the United States. The “Society” literally banks on death and much of its clientele is the elderly the most obvious demographic preparing to die. Betty knows about the Neptune Society because she and her late boyfriend’s children scattered his ashes at sea off the Southern California coast. But for the seagulls, the captain and the family, they had been alone.

 

That was six years ago. She returned home that day with loads of photos she had taken with a ten year old camera that she still uses today. I mention this only because Betty isn’t one for change, or new technology, or the unconventional.

It was odd behavior for my mother to talk about death. It was really out of character for her to consider what to do with her body afterwards. For my mother to consider cremation and a scattering at sea option was a surprise. Heretofore, mother addressed death by merely saying, “Well I’m not dying so we don’t need to discuss it.” 

I am glad the Neptune Society contacted my mother, and that she called me about the whole dying thing.  In fact, talking about death and related topics fascinate me. Like who shows up at a funeral, alive of course, and what the rabbis, priests or family members say about the deceased. I wonder who is telling the truth, and who is projecting their own psychoses onto the dead. I like to watch who makes the funeral a narcissistic outlet as they talk about their history with the departed. Most of all I love to see who openly grieves. The experience makes space for authenticity.

 

So yes, I like funerals. So maybe I am morbid. But mostly it’s because I like the realness and somewhat Buddhist acceptance that comes with death, dying and funerals. 

 “I don’t love the idea of burning,” said mother interrupting my dark daydream which is distinctly different from nightmares.

“But I guess I wouldn’t know the difference.” 

“That’s right, Mom, you would not.” But my sisters and I will, I thought. And we’re going to have to deal with that choice. So why not talk about it now?

 

The burning thing is becoming more and more of a hot topic. In the near future statistics show that in the United States about 800,000 people a year will choose cremation with 30% opting to scatter their ashes at sea. Cremation is clean and responsible. Choosing cremation over interment, inurnment, or entombment is a green choice and a way to “save the planet”.  Why pump embalming fluid into the ground if you don’t have to? Save land and grow some trees instead.

 

The way I see it, cremation will destroy my body or in this case my mother’s, and that is sad and I will grieve. I believe the body is an encasement of her sprit which will remain. Can my mother actually be aware of all this? If so, bravo! Mother's phone call, like a permission slip, will enable our family to discuss after death options with her while she can.  Best of all, the discussion makes way for inimacy.  Even if the dialogue is somewhat fragmaented. 

"Send me a copy of the letter Mom, and let me do some homework." 

I jumped at the chance to begin an investigation that would eventually lead me to the "life after life" option.