“What shall I do with you when you’re dead?” I asked Chris when we were still in bed earlier today.
Luckily, we think alike about most things so he didn’t misunderstand me; he knew I didn’t mean “What am I going to do without you?” (of course, I would be bereft and mortified). Also, he was well aware that at present I’m in the process of writing a story about a dying man, hence the topic of death was not particularly peculiar… although you might think that six-thirty in the morning is an odd time to have such a conversation. Chris didn’t appear to think so, in fact he turned around and, although we were in semi-darkness, I could see his face light up as warmed to the subject.
“I’m glad you asked,” he said excitedly, “because recently I’ve been thinking about your idea of us being buried together.” (Hopefully at different times, seeing as my “other half” is nearly twelve years older than me!)
We snuggled closer and Chris continued:
“Darling, do you really want to moulder in the ground?”
“Yeah but what if I’m murdered – no body to exhume – they’ll never find my murderer,” my heart sank as my dreams of resting eternally in the earth went up in flames.
“After a while they bury someone else on top of you and, anyway, when did you last visit a graveside?” he said like an enthusiastic representative for crematoriums.
“Yeah but someone may like to visit me for a talk and a few tears,” I argued feebly.
“Wouldn’t you rather have your ashes mixed with mine and be thrown to the winds? Or be in a place we both love?” Chris wheedled.
“Our garden. I’d love to be here forever,” I succumbed.
“No, this place will be sold. Why not a rocket? People do that you know,” he suggested.
“Not a rocket,” I said, thinking of the people on land. “I guess I wouldn’t mind the sea. Throw me into the sea then. By the way, how much is a cremation compared to a burial?”
“Burials cost thousands nowadays and a simple cremation – no service or memorial – can cost as little as £1,008,” my husband exclaimed joyously. “You don’t want a service – do you? We could have a party to remember you… but I’ll probably go first and you can throw a party.”
“Let’s find out how much it costs to turn our bodies into diamonds,” my mind turned to other options. “I think I’d rather become a diamond, if it’s not too expensive – if it’s say… £2,000.”
Half an hour later we were at the breakfast table and Chris opened the mail. He laughed and showed me the letter from SunLife insurers. There was a photograph of evergreen Alan Titchmarsh looking rather happy in spite of the window above his head informing that the “Average cost of a basic funeral in the South West of England £4,685”.
“I must be getting older,” Chris mused, “I never used to get mail asking ‘who’s paying for your funeral?’. I could get stony-faced about it!”
“If you become a ‘real diamond geezer’,” I added.
So we looked up “Ashes to Diamonds” on the Internet and it looks like we can afford only to become orange-yellow stones like topazes, not lovely blue cut diamonds. Chris found another site and was aglow with the notion of having my ashes set in coloured glass shaped as hearts or bubbles.
“But they probably put any old bits of ash in the glass,” Chris said, bursting my bubble.
So now our plans for the distant future are on the back-burner.