The Other Grief Vampire

It’s fitting to refer to “psychics” claiming to speak to the dead as “grief vampires.” Another variety of grief vampire is the death industry itself. I’m talking about the industry, not necessarily individual employees. At least, not all of them.

Nearly 29 years have passed since the death of my wife, Paula. Breast cancer, should you wish to know. Though we knew the day would come, it arrived sooner than either of us had expected or prepared for.

So it was that the next day found me at a mortuary, without a clue as to how to pick out a casket. There were no price tags on the floor models, so I chose one in a color that was one of Paula’s favorites. As it turned out, it was one of the least costly. I asked what made the more expensive ones more expensive. The mortician explained, as he had certainly done countless times before, that more expensive models had longer lasting exterior finishes and better seals for longer lasting inside cushioning.

In short, I could spend thousands more to keep an already costly, nice-looking box—one that I was going to bury and leave buried—looking nice inside and out for a few extra years. (As far as I’d know. It would have been rather difficult to verify.)

Still in shock from my wife’s death and therefore utterly filterless, I said, “I’m not going to dig it up and play with it that often.”

That rather abruptly ended the conversation.

Mind you, the mortician wasn’t out of line. After all, I had asked. Neither was he pushy. 

But then, morticians needn’t push. Grief tends to be a time of not thinking straight. It is the maker of easy marks. Mourners, many burdened with “I wish had done more,” need little to no prodding to guilt themselves into giving a departed loved one “the very best.” Even though the loved one will in no way see, much less appreciate, the gesture.

Even if, unlike me, you believe in an afterlife, it’s doubtful that your late loved one will go storming about heaven, hell, or wherever, complaining that you didn’t spend more on a casket. Any departed relatives or friends that petty wouldn’t really deserve the gesture anyway.

Note to my kids: When my time comes, the cheaper the better. For all I care, you can scatter my ashes in a cat litter box.