Once upon a time, my grandmother felt dizzy, and the doctor who came in an ambulance decided not to take any chances and took her to the hospital. There, they explained in detail that at her age, energetically hopping around theaters with elderly friends was simply inappropriate. Death was not far off, and it was only proper to meet it in her own bed, not at a poker game with her friends.
Grandma decided to face the end thoughtfully and with a sense of style. First, she bought a large stockpile of medications and arranged them on her bedside table. The air was soon filled with the strong smell of valerian drops. Secondly, she enlisted all of us to help her in the solemn process of dying, sacrificing our time and nerves.
She became demanding, constantly requiring new medicines, and calls for doctors or solicitors. Mum was run off her feet, trying to satisfy her every whim and to convince her that it was still too early to die. In response, Grandma would roll her eyes and ask for more valerian.
But one day, in Grandma’s room appeared her old friend Nellie. Thankfully, I was at her house at that time and had the privilege of witnessing it with my own eyes.
“So, I hear you’ve finally decided to kick the bucket,” Nellie said in her deep voice, “Remarkable. One of us has to take that first step to the other side to check it out. But tell me straight – are you really planning to lie in the coffin looking like that?” Grandma grumbled that she didn’t care how she looked in the box.
“Well, you might not care,” Nellie replied, “but I’ll have to look at that horror! Worse yet, I’ll have to kiss it! What will people say? They’ll think they’re at a respectable funeral and that they’ve been duped. I just won’t be able to face them!”
“What do people have to do with it?” Grandma exclaimed.
“Because they’ll come, thinking they’re burying Nellie’s friend, and Nellie doesn’t hang around with just anyone. But when they see you, they’ll think they’ve been given a different corpse and be offended! By the way, why do you have so many meds? Are you poisoning yourself with that junk?”
“I’m trying to ease my suffering,” Grandma protested.
“You’re trying to ruin your liver – and a bad liver gives you a horrible complexion. Do you want people to flee in terror when they see you in the coffin?”
Grandma pondered this and agreed it was better to be in the coffin with a healthy complexion. Her friend supported her and suggested they go out for a walk to get a rosy glow that would look stunning on the deathbed.
With my mouth agape, I watched as my once-dying grandmother slid off the bed and headed for the shower, which she had refused for the past three weeks. Meanwhile, Nellie, curling her lip in disgust, ordered me to gather all the bedding to send it for washing. She also instructed me to prepare two strong cups of coffee and add a splash of something invigorating like cognac, about fifty millilitres. After all, cognac is good for keeping one’s spirits and nerves up. And as you’ve gathered, it’s better to be in that notorious coffin with steady nerves and a strong heart.
Nellie was so concerned about my grandmother’s upcoming funeral that she diligently prepared her for it over the next few weeks. During that time, they visited the hairdresser, masseuse, and beauty salon. They went shopping and attended sales, buying all sorts of nice things that would surely come in handy in the afterlife, like a hat with a veil, gloves, and cosmetics.
So now Grandma isn’t worried about her funeral’s proceedings, knowing it will be top-notch. To pass the time, she’s resumed her outings to visit friends, poker games, and lively picnics. She says that if death really wants her, it can come and find her itself. However, the Grim Reaper seems to be in no hurry to seek her out – perhaps Grandma’s complexion isn’t quite good enough for that yet.
