One day, my grandmother felt dizzy, and the paramedic who arrived in the ambulance decided not to take any chancesso off to the hospital she went.
There, they explained in no uncertain terms that at her age, gallivanting about to theatres with elderly friends was simply improper. Death was just around the corner, and she ought to meet it properlyin her own bed, not at a poker game with a friend.
Grandma decided to approach dying thoughtfully and with style. First, she bought an entire pharmacys worth of medicine and arranged them neatly on her bedside table. The air was soon thick with the scent of smelling salts. Second, she made sure the rest of us sacrificed our time and sanity to assist in her grand farewell. She fussed, demanded new prescriptions, and insisted on summoning either the doctor or the solicitor.
Mum ran herself ragged trying to accommodate her whims while gently suggesting that death could wait. In response, Gran rolled her eyes and asked for another drop of her tonic.
Then one day, her old friend Ethel paid a visit. Thank heavens I was there to witness it.
“Word is youve finally decided to kick the bucket,” Ethel boomed. “Good on you. Someones got to be the first to scout out the other side. But tell me honestlydo you really plan to lie in your coffin looking like *that*?”
Gran muttered that she didnt care how she looked in the box.
“*You* might not care,” Ethel shot back, “*Im* the one wholl have to look at it! Worse, Ill have to *kiss* it! What will people think? Theyll turn up expecting a proper funeral and feel utterly swindled. Id be too ashamed to face them!”
“What do people have to do with it?” Gran huffed.
“Theyll come thinking theyre burying *my* friend, and I dont associate with just anyone. But when they see you, theyll think someones palmed them off with a different corpse! And why all this medicine? Are you trying to poison yourself?”
“Im easing my suffering,” Gran protested.
“Youre ruining your liverand bad livers make for awful complexions. Do you want people fleeing in horror when they see you in your coffin?”
Gran considered this and conceded that a healthy glow *would* be preferable. Ethel heartily agreed and suggested a brisk walk to put some colour in her cheeksperfect for her final rest.
I gaped as my supposedly dying grandmother shuffled out of bed and into the shower shed refused for weeks. Meanwhile, Ethel, wrinkling her nose, ordered me to strip the bedsheets for washing and brew two strong coffeesspiked with a generous splash of brandy, of course. Nothing like a tipple for nerves and vitality. And as we all know, the best way to lie in a coffin is with steady nerves and a strong heart.
Ethel took Grans impending funeral so seriously that she spent the next fortnight preparing her. They visited the hairdresser, the masseuse, and the beauty salon. They went shopping and picked out all sorts of lovely things for the afterlifea veil-trimmed hat, gloves, and fresh cosmetics.
Now, Gran no longer frets about her funeral, knowing itll be done properly. To pass the time, shes resumed her outings with friends, poker nights, and picnics. “If Death wants me,” she says, “let it come looking.”
So far, the old reaper hasnt botheredlikely because Grans complexion still isnt quite up to standard.
The lesson? Life isnt about waiting for the endits about living so well that Death has to catch up.
