Once, my grandmother felt dizzy, and the doctor who arrived with the ambulance decided not to take any chances and took her to the hospital. There, they explained in great detail that at her age, energetically hopping around theatres with her elderly friends was downright improper. Death wasn’t far off, and it was only proper to meet it in one’s bed rather than during a game of poker at a friend’s house.
Grandmother decided to approach dying thoughtfully and with style. First, she bought a whole heap of medicines and arranged them on her bedside table. Soon, the air was filled with the persistent smell of menthol rub. Next, she had us all working hard, sacrificing our time and patience to assist her in the ceremonial process of dying.
She was fussy, demanding new medications, and the constant visits of either a doctor or a solicitor. Mum was run off her feet trying to meet all her whims and somehow convince her that it was still too early to die. In response, Granny would roll her eyes and ask for a bit more menthol rub to be applied.
But one day, her old friend Nell appeared in her room. Thankfully, I was at her place at the time and had the fortune to witness it all firsthand.
“So, I’ve heard you’ve finally decided to kick the bucket,” Nell stated in her deep voice, “commendable. Someone has to take the first step into the beyond to check things out. But tell me straight – do you really plan to lie in the coffin looking like that?”
Granny grumbled back that she didn’t care about her appearance in the box.
“You might not care,” Nell replied, “but I’ll have to look at this horror! Moreover, I’ll have to kiss it! What will people say? They’ll think they’re attending a decent funeral but will feel utterly deceived. I just can’t look them in the eye!”
“What’s it got to do with other people?” Granny exclaimed.
“Because they’ll think they’re burying Nell’s friend, and Nell doesn’t hang out with just anyone. But when they see you, they’ll think they’ve been presented with a different corpse and get offended! By the way, why do you have so much medication? Are you trying to poison yourself?”
“I’m trying to ease my suffering,” Granny tried to defend herself.
“You’re going to ruin your liver completely – and a sick liver gives an awful complexion. Do you want people to see you in the coffin and run away in horror?”
Granny pondered and agreed that it was indeed better to have a good complexion for the coffin. Her friend supported her and suggested they go outside for a healthy rosy glow, which would look impressive on her deathbed.
With my mouth agape, I watched as my nearly dying granny slid off the bed and headed for a shower, which she had refused for the past three weeks. Meanwhile, Nell, pursing her lips in disdain, ordered me to strip all the bed linens for a wash… and for them, I was to prepare two strong cups of coffee, adding a splash of something cognac-like to perk them up, say, about fifty milliliters. After all, cognac is good for the nerves and heart. And as you’ve realized by now, it’s better to lie in the coffin with strong nerves and a hearty heart…
Granny’s best friend became so preoccupied with her upcoming funeral that she diligently prepared her over the next couple of weeks. During this time, they visited the hairdresser, a masseuse, and a beauty salon. They went shopping and to sales, buying a host of lovely things undoubtedly useful in the afterlife, like a veiled hat, gloves, and makeup.
Now, Granny doesn’t worry about her funeral because she knows it will all go splendidly. In the meantime, she has resumed her visits to friends, poker games, and cheerful picnics. She says that if death is in such a hurry to find her, let it come looking for her… but, it seems, the Grim Reaper isn’t rushing – perhaps Granny’s complexion still isn’t quite perfect for the occasion.
