Visiting a funeral parlour to plan
I turn 87 on Monday, and recently decided it’s time to look squarely at end-of-life matters, namely mine. I’m in good health and there’s no better time.
Over a long life, I’ve had several personal bereavements, and moreover, one cannot be a citizen of the world and not be downcast about deaths inflicted on others, so I’m not entirely inexperienced. But this has a special flavour because it will be mine that I’m contemplating. Best, of course, to think these thoughts and lay these plans while one is feeling well and cheerful.
So on a sunny day in early March, I made my way over to the Ashburnham Funeral Home on Armour Road, which has, by the way, been recently awarded Readers’ Choice by the people in Peterborough.
It is a spacious facility with a foyer in which to display mementos of a life, an attractive reception room, a caterer (“That’s a Wrap”) on site and a chapel that seats 350.
Ten years ago, when my spouse, John, died, we made use of this funeral home with confidence. John had made it relatively easy for our three sons and me. When he got his terminal diagnosis six months earlier, he phoned the boys and said, “Now, I haven’t got long. What do you need from me?”
Wise man, to think of leaving them at peace with no unresolved issues. Two of them said through tears: “Everything is fine, Dad.”
The youngest said. “Dad, I’ve always wanted you to come to my jiu jitsu tournament.” So there we were in a high school gym in Markham, watching the grappling and grunting. The photos from that day are very happy.
John Cunningham, the owner of Ashburnham, also known as the Community Alternative, has acquired a water-based facility called Kawartha Aquamation by which a body goes through a process of hydrolysis and becomes a kind of dust similar to that of cremation. It is a flameless process using water, and therefore has no emissions of greenhouse gases or mercury. A casket is not needed.
This development will appeal to many.
I met for an hour with funeral director Sarah McLaughlin, who graduated from Trent and then took a two-year course at Humber College, all regulated by a provincial group called the Bereavement Authority of Ontario. Funeral directors have hearts of social workers, guiding people with great kindness through the process when they are grieving.
Price lists are readily available. I would choose an urn for the aquamated remains, and over a period of about a week from the day of death, have a visitation time on site, a service open to all, conducted by friends and family, a reception on site with refreshments, and next day, interment. Danny Bronson of Highland Park would guide the preparation of the grave, as he has done for us before.
I recall that the number of copies of the death certificate that was needed was 15. We live in a bureaucracy for sure: governments, the executor, pensions, credit cards, internet services, banks and so on.
In 1996, when retiring from teaching, we bought a plot at the beautiful, municipallyowned Little Lake cemetery, at “pre-need” prices. We needed it 17 years later. I placed a red granite bench there because “cemeteries are full of sad people with no place to sit down,” John had said.
The costs would be about $5,000 to $6,000 for the funeral home. Food is of course extra.
End-of-life plans are intensely personal. I decided to write about the various possibilities to inform readers and to normalize conversations about what were once “hush-hush” matters. It seems a good idea to have a burial location, so that families, especially grandchildren, can visit; to encourage ritual, and acceptance and be a place to pay tribute to past lives.
I felt relieved and responsible walking home.