£3000 for a family do and a box of ashes!
Sadly (I'm supposed to say that) mother died.
Christmas Eve of all times too.
Mother had been ill for 2 years - but had to go on what was probably one of the most inconvenient nights of the year.
The nursing home she'd been put into only 2 days prior (the hospital wanted the bed for it's next victim.. sorry - patient) phoned at 8:40pm and told me the news.
"Which funeral home is she going to?" the man stuffed full of the common cold snivelled down the phone at me (why do they call it a home or a parlour? What word would suit?).
I had no idea. I live a way off from mother. My brother, bless his heart, had dealt with as much as he could, being more local, but that didn't matter. Mother was a denying soul. She denied having trouble, she denied being ill, she denied she owed money and she denied the fact that she was soon to die. So we had nothing.
The snivelling but pleasant chappie on the phone gave a suggestion or 2 - but couldn't recommended - not policy.
I picked one at random and tried to phone - it was by this time 9:30pm Christmas eve. I had finally got hold of my brother who confirmed we had no idea what mum had wanted or with whom.
I called the nursing home back and told them of our choice and the lack of contact so he said he'd deal with it and call us in the morning.
For the first time in years, since my children were small, I was up before 7am on Christmas day.
The funeral home called shortly after snivelling man had and repeated his words to me that they would collect mother, using her name and speaking of her as if she were popping to the old farts Christmas dinner in the town.
She's dead. She's not there. It's a body, a shell, a collection of what's left. Why not say 'collect her body'? Ah well, I guess they have to be polite. Not everyone feels as we do.
Mother's body was collected and 'at rest' in the funeral organisation building by 11am, I could get on with cooking Christmas dinner for a ruck of family coming over. They know me well enough and apart from a couple of 'are you alright's' and so on we had a pleasant day. Nothing could be done about mother anyway.
A couple of days later - when most folk got back to work and semi normality resumes before the new year - I got another call from the funeral place asking all sorts of questions. Normal for the situation. But one thing got highlighted - "we'll need a deposit of about £1500 and you'll have 3 weeks to pay the rest or I'm afraid (in that soft cooing sorry someone's dead voice) we'll be contacting debt collectors.
Bloody cheek!
We hadn't even got a date set and they were reminding me of my financial obligation. I say mine as it is exactly that. In her denial mother hadn't provided insurance or anything and as the eldest the arranging and costs have landed on my shoulders.
Typical mother - gave me nothing and took the rest.
Am I bitter - maybe a bit - but I'll get over it.
Anyway I digress.
Because mother had been in the nursing homing a mere 2 days, and the hospital had discharged her - and her own GP said it was out of his area so he didn't give a crap (not his actual words) - then the coroner had to get involved.
New Years Eve they moved mother's body to the morgue. 19th January they did the inquest hearing. 22nd January they moved her back to the funeral place. 25th I met my siblings there to discuss stage 3 or 4 or whatever - the last bit.
We have a date, we picked the cheapest coffin and service we could. After all we're broke, I'm broke, and she won't care. We had a few minutes discussing who would tell which members of mother's remaining family. The lady dealing with the paperwork was in a pickle with it to the point she was putting mother's name and address as the billing address. Fine by me - go for it - I mused.
I ended up redoing all of the forms for her. She couldn't spell my name, she forgot to tick boxes, and she was sending the bill to our dead mother. Appalling I would say.
Then came the final bit - the bill.
£200 for the coffin, £160 for the vicar, £799 for the crematorium service and burning... so far as to be expected. A few other minor items we chose, then "Her fees" £1000. ONE THOUSAND POUNDS so I could fill in the forms for her and for her to give us a list of stuff we could and couldn't do. Absolutely disgusting.
We have yet to have the service so I'm biding my time to see if they make a mess of that too.
But in the end I'll be paying £3000 for a family get together of people I hardly know and a box of ashed for me to do with as I wish.
The moral of the story - get insurance people. Don't leave your loved ones with a bill they probably can't afford at a time when normal folk are emotional and sad at losing someone close.
speaks for itself
