Flannel Pajamas and a Soft Quilt
I could tell my mom had something on her mind when she called me. “I need to share something with you, but I don’t want to upset you,” she said.
I assured her she could tell me anything.
“I want to talk with you about my funeral. I have some thoughts and ideas, but I’m not sure what to do with them. First I want you to know that I have a file on my desk called ‘Funeral Ideas’ where I have written most of my thoughts down. I thought that would be good enough. But I think I’d feel better if we talked it all through in person.”
“Mom, this isn’t upsetting at all. If there are specific wishes you have, we would definitely want to know. I’d want hear the suggestions and requests from you, rather than trying to guess what you might have wanted, when it’s too late to ask.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “And I’d like to go with you and your sister to the funeral home to pre-plan all my arrangements. And if it’s too sad for you , I can always go by myself.”
“No way are you doing this by yourself! Let’s pick a date and do this, the three of us.”
So there we were, me and my mom and my sister, sitting in the conference room of the funeral home for a 10am meeting to pre-plan my mother’s final arrangements. Keep in mind, Mom is healthy and happy and has no intention to participate in her actual funeral anytime soon.
But apparently this pro-active approach is unusual, as we learned from the funeral director when she walked into the room. Her assumption was that my mom must not be well, maybe diagnosed with something terminal, which must have brought the three of us there for a difficult conversation about mom’s final wishes.
However, she was pleasantly surprised to hear that mom was healthy and happy, and just being proactive.
As you can imagine, on the list of things Mom needed to decide was what casket she wanted to be buried in.
We toured the casket room (did you know there is such a thing?) and Mom quickly chose a modestly-priced, warm wooden box. “This looks cozy. I don’t want a metal one— those seem cold.”
In minutes, the casket was chosen and Mom felt confident in her decision.
Then it was time to discuss the service she wanted to have. Both my sister and I were surprised when Mom opened her “Funeral Ideas” folder and had already determined the following:
The address of the church where she wanted her service.
The three special readings she wanted recited.
The songs she wanted us to sing.
The pallbearers she’d like to accompany the casket.
The outfit she wanted to be buried in.
The picture and words she wanted on her mass card.
The fact that she wanted us to buy a bouquet of simple white daisies because, to her, they’re happy flowers.
I was impressed by the amount of time and thought she had put into this. And I was relieved to know that none of these decisions would have to be made by me or my sister down the road.
“And don’t laugh,” Mom requested, “But I want to be buried in flannel pajamas and covered up with my favorite quilt. If I’m going to my final resting place, I want to be comfy.”
Despite her request, the three of us laughed out loud. Flannel pajamas and a quilt? It was so her. But I never would have thought of this. I was filled with gratitude for this special moment. Yes, underneath our giggling, there was a sadness when we thought about the reality of all of this coming to fruition someday.
But in the moment, I really felt grateful for this special time together to address all the important details.
At the end, when it was time to pre-pay for everything, the funeral director thanked us and shared that she’d never experienced so much happiness in planning a service before. Too often, families come in after the fact, grief-stricken and unable to think clearly or make decisions that they feel confident about afterwards. “I wish,” she stated, “more people came in here happy, and thoughtful, and in advance of the sadness to do this type of planning. I love that you were all willing to do this work together.”
I had no idea going to the funeral home that morning could be a confetti moment. But it was. For my mom, for us, and even for the funeral director.
Granted these are not easy conversations. But because my mom was brave enough to speak up about her wishes, we were able to have this profound experience together.
Are you at a stage in life where you are starting to think more about your own mortality? Do you have ideas and wishes for your end-of-life care? Have you shared these thoughts with anyone? Or are you keeping them to yourself so as not to upset anyone?
My advice to you is this: Speak up. Share your thoughts. I promise it will be more meaningful and impactful than letting your family wonder, or even worse, waiting until it’s too late to express your feelings .
Maybe you are at the stage in life where you are thinking about your own parents’ mortality, and wonder what their wishes are, but are hesitant to ask because you don’t want to upset them. I urge you: Ask the questions. Be brave. Let them know it’s okay to share any and all thoughts with you, and that you’ll do your part to carry out their wishes.
I had no idea the gift my mom would give us that day.
And I underestimated the peace of mind that going through the pre-planning process would give her.
It gave all of us a profound feeling of comfort, like the kind of feeling you get from flannel pajamas and a soft quilt.
