My family has a strange relationship with ashes. My father’s were scattered under a bush in a distant memorial garden years ago. The bush has been replaced a couple of times and now we’ve really lost him. When Mum died much later, and the cost of scattering around an azalea bush had tripled, and the cemetery people demanded to oversee our Christian-Buddhist-Atheist rituals in the same garden, we opted for plan B. A magnificent pine in the local park. We three daughters rounded its massive trunk like a circle of reverend elephants, uttering the words, “You’ll never be alone, Ma … Now we can visit you every week … We love you, Mum” as we sprinkled away.
One year later, lightning split the tree in two. A day later it was wrapped in safety tape. A week later it was chopped down and carted away. We know what we did was illegal and that you’re meant to get permission from the council – untreated ashes can kill plant life – but … really God?
All we wanted was to follow our parents’ wishes to return to nature. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that. We thought we were on trend.
Today, the death industry, in Australia at least, has rung in more changes than the bride of Jeff Bezos. Economic, environmental and ethical considerations are driving the revolution along with our growing ease in dealing with the aftermath of death. Some of this is worthwhile – not everyone wants to tie themselves in memoriam to a grim cemetery – but much of this commercialisation is tacky.
What really gets up my nose is turning ashes into personal stuff. This, in an age of material excess! I know it’s nice to keep your loved one close – hell, you don’t even have to hop in the car to make a special journey to the memorial.
The sky’s the limit when it comes to kitschy options for your loved one’s ashes because you only need a sprinkle of “cremains” to add to the creation. Australian companies like Simplicity Funerals, Kingston Funerals, and Integrity Funerals offer numerous choices of what to do with loved ones’ gritty bits. Like becoming a diamond ring, a fake marine reef (the fish will love it), a vinyl record – preferably not of Wham’s Wake me up before you go-go. Ashes can even turn into tattoos, putting a whole new spin on getting under someone’s skin.
And I know it’s a personal choice and none of my business. Will a daily reminder comfort us – or prolong the grief? And who, three generations from now, will remember that great-great-grandpa was morphed into a super-glazed coffee mug before ending up in hard rubbish?
The question is – has anyone asked permission of the predeceased for all these gizmos? Would you, in your right mind, really agree to become a golf ball – as offered by a Brisbane company – or resin cowboy boots in perpetuity?
My mother, a mild-mannered woman, was dead against dividing ashes – as in half of Aunt Minnie will rest in the memorial wall and the other half will return to her fishing village in Scotland. “It’s not natural!” she’d cry. “She has to stay in one piece.” I wondered if she envisaged an arm here and a leg there. But I understood her reasons.
Things get even sillier. If you hire a licensed pyrotechnician, notify Worksafe and obtain relevant permits, ashes can be incorporated into a memorial fireworks display – an option made famous by gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson. Or dropped from a height by Final Flight Australia using the latest drone technology. Says the website: “Any array of colours can be considered. Think of your sports or football team, favourite colour, overall ceremony theme”. Sounds pretty but who’s paying for this folderol?
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the sheer cost of a traditional cemetery plaque, headstone, grave, monument is pushing us to make cheaper creative alternatives (drones aside). A single lawn grave at Springvale Botanical Cemetery could set you back a cool $26,000, an individual rose bush $14,000, a lawn plaque $6000.
But all this gimmicky stuff … I appreciate it’s not the intention, but I reckon it takes away the dignity of the deceased.
Perhaps it also reflects the “me generation”, the focus being on those left behind rather than on the person being mourned. A perfect example is the marketing of modern urns. The Yurn website has headings like “How do I make my urn feel at home? Styling tips for a meaningful space” or “Choose colours that complement your home… Use height and layers”. What is this – an interior design competition or the desire to keep your late love close?
Back to my parents’ remains. We still visit my mother’s park. We still sit on the bench that used to be by her tree. We play out our memories of both parents, courting on the little bridges over the lake, perhaps catching yabbies when the watermark was high.
But we never tell Dad we lost him. Or Mum that she may not be in one piece after all.
Jo Stubbings is a freelance writer and reviewer.
The Opinion newsletter is a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up here.
