THE FUNERAL PLANNER

Chapter 9 Part 3: Critical Success Factors - Diving into Grief

Chapter 9 Part 3

The next few days I spend catching up with family in Ann Arbor. I take Andy to the movies and to the park with Sid where we all romp together. I meet Rebecca and Keat­ing for lunch. I have dinner with Sierra and the ever-elu­sive and charming Milton, whom I say I approve of when asked in private by Sierra. I try to talk to Daniel, but his doom and gloom overwhelms him. I tell him he should try pseudo-dying sometime, it might help, but I receive only a dumbfounded expression in return. I take my par­ents to a klezmer concert and bask in enjoying the mo­ments with them, especially the moments when Eleanor dotes on Siddhartha.

When Sid and I return to the Eagle’s Nest a few days later, I am devastated to learn that Guy died the night before in his sleep from some sort of undetected heart condition. He had no family, and so Richard and I decide to put a funeral together for him.

Richard and I enter Guy’s apartment and discover that he has very little in terms of possessions: a painting by Lil­lian Jones of him in green overalls standing outside the Eagle’s Nest on the dock at Clark Lake; a box of photos of him as a child and as a teenager, the only hint of family members, frozen in the past; several first-place ribbon awards from high school for most innovative in engineer­ing and design; and several boxes of metal parts and circuit boards.

We load up his possessions and place them in Richard’s truck. Then we drive up to Sally’s house on three acres of land. Guy’s fenced engineering feat glints in the sunlight.

“I’ve never informed someone of a death before,” I say to Richard.

“Just be compassionate and emotionally available,” he says. “When a survivor’s pain touches your heart, a bond is made. It helps them through the grieving process. But to get there, you have to be willing to be touched.” He pauses to reflect as he puts the truck in Park. “When I was a funeral director, I learned that what people really want is to know that you’re just doing the best you can.”

“When you were a funeral director, Richard?” I pose, poignantly. “What makes you think anything’s changed just because you’re working in a bar?” I smile at him and then open the truck door to step out.

Sally takes the news hardest of all. When she breaks down, I gently hold her in my arms and tell her how much Guy enjoyed doing that for her.

Sally weeps. “I should have done more. I should have told him how much he meant to me after Joe went. I should have had him move in with me. Maybe I could have saved him,” she laments over and over.

“Sounds like you guys had a really special relationship, Sally. Please be comforted knowing that Guy was very fond of you. All he ever talked about at the bar was you, and how much he enjoyed looking after you.”

Her eyes light up for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” I assure her.

“Sally, you know that Guy didn’t have any family. You have a lot of property here—how would you feel about burying him on yours?” says Richard.

Sally stops crying and looks at us both. “Why, I would be honored to have him here...but what about a casket? He should have a nice one. Mahogany. He always liked mahogany...but they’re well over five thousand at Tribute in a Box,” she says. “I remember from when Joe died. And they’re the only ones around here. I’ll help pay for it, but I won’t give a cent to that Tribute in a Box company after the way they took advantage of me.”

“I’m sure I have a mahogany casket left in stock at the old funeral home from before Tribute in a Box took over. We can use one of those,” offers Richard. “And they’re much less expensive.”