One day, my grandmother felt dizzy, and the paramedic who arrived in the ambulance decided not to take any chances and took the old dear to the hospital. There, they gently explained that at her age, bustling about to theatres with elderly chums was simply improper. Death wasnt far off, and it was only right to meet it properlyin ones own bed, not at a poker game with a friend.
Grandmother decided to approach dying thoughtfully and with flair. First, she bought a heap of medicines and arranged them neatly on her bedside table. The air was soon thick with the scent of lavender drops. Second, she made sure the rest of us sacrificed our time and sanity to assist in her grand procession toward the grave. She fussed, demanded new prescriptions, and insisted on summoning either the doctor or the solicitor.
Mum wore herself out trying to cater to her whims while gently suggesting it might be a bit early to die just yet. In response, Gran rolled her eyes and asked for another dose of her drops.
Then one day, her old friend Mabel turned up. Thank heavens I was there to witness it.
“So, I hear youve finally decided to pop off,” Mabel said in her deep, smoky voice. “Commendable. Someones got to scout the other side first. But answer me honestlyare you really planning to lie in your coffin looking like that?”
Gran muttered that she didnt care how she looked in the box.
“You might not,” Mabel shot back, “but Ill have to look at you! Worse, Ill have to kiss you! What will people think? Theyll expect a respectable funeral, only to realise theyve been swindled. I wont be able to face them!”
“Whats it to do with them?” Gran huffed.
“Because theyll come thinking theyre burying Mabels friend, and Mabel doesnt associate with just anyone. If they see you like this, theyll think someones palmed off a different corpse entirelytheyll be mortified! And why so many pills? Trying to poison yourself?”
“Im easing my suffering,” Gran protested weakly.
“Youre ruining your liverand nothing looks worse in a coffin than a bad complexion. Do you want people to take one look and flee in horror?”
Gran considered this and agreed that a healthy glow would suit her better in the casket. Mabel nodded and suggested a brisk walk to work up a rosy flushvery striking on ones deathbed.
I gaped as my supposedly dying grandmother shuffled out of bed and into the shower, which shed sworn off for weeks. Meanwhile, Mabel curled her lip and ordered me to strip the sheets for washing while she brewed two strong coffeesspiked with a generous splash of brandy for good measure. Brandy, she explained, did wonders for the nerves and circulation, and one ought to face eternity with steady nerves and a strong heart.
Mabel took such an interest in Grans impending send-off that she spent weeks preparing her for it. They visited the hairdresser, the masseuse, and the beauty salon. They went shopping and scooped up all sorts of charming trifles for the hereaftera veiled hat, gloves, a touch of rouge.
So now, Gran doesnt fret about her funeral. She knows itll be done properly. To pass the time, shes resumed her rounds of tea with friends, poker nights, and picnics in the park. She says if Deaths so keen, it can come and find her.
Though, so far, the old Reapers in no hurryperhaps Grans complexion still isnt quite up to scratch.
