Nobody enjoys funerals – they're sad, awkward, and full of cry. The only way they could be worse is if you sat down at the table and tried to start a conversation with someone who you soon discovered was your late grandmother's corpse. Because Grandma is in the house and she's dressed to party. And rot. But mostly party.
Horrifyingly enough, bringing the body of the dearly departed to their funeral and posing them in some sort of life-like death diorama is becoming a trend, in particular among the Puerto Rican and New Orleans communities. This has been referred to by ABC News as “extreme embalming,” because of course it has (I’m taking bets right now in when the Extreme Embalming reality show makes it’s debut).
So put on your thinking caps and gets those inheritance checks ready, because for the cost of not much more than your average funeral, you can prop Grandpa up behind the wheel of his beloved Cadillac with a cigarette in one hand and all of your nightmares gently cupped in the other.
Or you can have your mom propped up at her kitchen table with her arms crossed, silently judging you into eternity. Meanwhile, you can get drunk and get a few things off your chest: “Why don't you understand that I'll never be a gymnast?! WHY?!” You can work out a lot of stuff with these set ups.
Well, I am nothing if not someone who enjoys a creepy trend. Therefore, I have come up with a few appropriate options for my children when they are deciding how to pose me after I kick the bucket.
Lying in bed, with a pillow over my face.
(Image: Johan Larson/shutterstock)
“Oh my gosh,” visitors will say, “Was she murdered?”
“No,” my children will answer. “She started screaming into a pillow...and she just couldn't stop.”
My funeral will be held at a local playground.
(Image: : djile/shutterstock)
You will find my corpse sitting on a bench – sunglasses on, head down, looking at my iPhone.
“She was so attentive. She always liked my Facebook statuses after ‘just now’ but before ‘1 min ago.’”
Have my kids build a couch fort, and put me inside.
I'm never going to have a couch I can actually sit on again anyway.
“We thought of forts as pirate ships, alien planets, and obstacle courses, but never as a funeral pyre. What a creative mind!”
Stand me up in my living room, holding out my iPad.
There will be a CD of Benedictine monks chanting in the background, and a spotlight positioned so that I appear to have a halo.
“It was when she was at her most desperate that she was also her most giving.”
I will be sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of the TV with a pile of laundry.
(Image: Rob Hainer/shutterstock)
The TV will have a motion sensor, so that from far away I will be watching Orange is The New Black but if you get too close it switches to Bubble Guppies.
“Oh my word! Are those ladies in a public shower -- oh. Sorry. It’s just talking fish with baby heads.”
Mourners will be filed one by one into an apparently empty bathroom. When they pull back the shower curtain, they will find me curled up in the bathtub.
(Image: Piotr Marcinski/shutterstock)
My earbuds will be in and I will be listening to This American Life with a bottle of wine and ALL of the cookies. Cookies my children didn't even know EXISTED.
“MALLOWMARS?! Where the fuck did she find Mallowmars?! Oh, mother. How could you?”
Park my car in the carpool line at school.
Put me behind the wheel with a latte in the cup holder and my Kindle propped against the steering wheel. I shall wear sweatpants, a tee shirt, and no bra.
“That's our mom. She wouldn't want to get dressed up if she were just going to be staying in the car.”
“But...not even a bra?”
“I'm sorry, is royalty coming? Will my mother be put on a dolly and rolled down a runway? No? Then leave the woman and her sad, flaccid boobs alone.”
Seated at a desk with my iPhone calendar, my wall calendar, and the kids school calendars in front of me.
(Image: Olesya Feketa/shutterstock
On the wipe board in clear, bold letters should be the words, “Fuck it.”
“I guess now no one will ever know when there are doctor’s appointments, haircuts, car maintenance, bill payments, family birthdays, library book due dates, or when wacky hair day is. WHY IS GOD TESTING US THIS WAY?!”
So those are a few ideas. After the service, I would like to be cremated with my pillow and a copy of “Scream-Free Parenting” wedged firmly between my butt cheeks. Let Mommy get one more burn in before she gets her burn on. Thanks, kids!