My brother-in-law’s brother died this week. He is to be cremated. Neither my brother-in-law or I know exactly how we feel about that. One of my sisters wants to be cremated also. I suppose, if the ashes are scattered, that it seems natural. Returning the body to the earth, the dust, the universe. Maybe better than being in an airtight coffin.

I remember the first time I saw a coffin. I was two. My grandfather had died. My family is big on open caskets. Viewing the dead, I avoid the coffin room. But they had my aunt Rena propped up in hers so you could see her from the next room. Somewhat disturbing to me.

I prob’ly feel that way because of my grandfather’s funeral. Now I am told, I was not at the funeral. That I was left with my Mother’s family. But when I was an adult, I walked around the same funeral home with Aunt Mae at another funeral, and we recollected about the day, and she confirmed my memories.

When at my grandfather’s funeral, someone at the funeral home, I think it was my grandfather’s business partner, Elmer. That’s another memory. Anyway, he lifted me up so I could see my grandfather. I should say, my grandfather’s body. Even at two, I did not associate the thing in the coffin with the man who had taught me how to fold toast into triangles instead of rectangles. Another memory I am told is incorrect, but I remember where everyone was sitting at my grandmother’s kitchen table. Me on the right, My dad in the center, and my grandfather at the end. Maybe it was my Dad me helped me fold it, but it was my grandfather who said, “fold it into a triangle; that’s how I eat my toast. Maybe my Dad didn’t hear him, or know he was there.

But back to coffins. I have never since then cared much for coffins, especially opened ones. I’m not sure how I feel about my body being put into one. I do feel like I want my body to return to the earth, as my spirit will return to the universe. It seems right. But then, that corpse I leave behind will be for others to do with as they feel right. I will not care.

I do have one good memory related to coffins. I went with my Grandmother to pick hers out. She had everything pre-arranged once the insurance company sent her a check because she had outlived the terms of the insurance. She died at 98. I carried her coffin from the chapel, and to the graveside. And I have now carried my share of them to the grave.

She was one of the great people in my life, and as sad as the day was, I had to smile when I remembered when she picked out the casket I was carrying. When I first learned that I was to take her to the funeral home to pick out a casket, I admit I was not thrilled. But in her usual way, she made it humorous and fun. She filled out info for her obituary. Discussed her favorite hymns. And commented on all the different caskets in the casket showroom. If you didn’t know, they do have casket showrooms.

She was very careful to pick the right one. Nothing too fancy. Nothing to feminine. She felt the padding and the pillows. I swear I thought she was going to climb up into one to try it out. We had a good time that day, I think sharing that experience with her made the casket a little lighter to carry. I still avoid open caskets, but how many people can say one of their fondest memories is the day they spent with their grandmother, picking out a coffin.