D.C = Death Certificate
Do you know what it’s like to hold one of these in your hands? Do you know what it’s like to hold your spouse’s death certificate? To have several of them because people need them?
Having to go back to the funeral home is hard. Luckily, the man who owns it is very nice. He sees a lot. I know he saw a lot when I was sitting there arranging my husband’s burial.
I want to give advice on planning your spouse’s funeral. I want to tell you that you will make all the right decisions. You will know what is best. There will be opposition and tension and hurt feelings from others. They will think their way is best….it is not. If I could go back in time, I would have insisted on going to the funeral home alone. I wish I had gone alone.
I honored my husband’s request to be buried. If I had it my way, I would have cremated him. His ashes would have been with me for awhile. At least he would still be with me. I would have taken his ashes to New York and spread them. Instead, I put him in the town where we lived for five years and where his family lives. He is too far from me and when I die, we will not be together. I knew this for a very long time but now I buried him, I want him close to me. He is in the ground and every time it rains or snows, it hurts to think that he is getting wet and he is cold (I know, weird, right?).
When we went to pick out his resting place shortly after the funeral home, I kept second guessing everything. No one was telling me I was making the right decisions. No one was comforting me. My husband died that morning and we were burying him the next day. It was a rush to get everything done. I was standing at the cemetery, watching our children run around. On that late October afternoon, there was a wind blowing and it whipped around my hair, neck and cheeks. It was so warm and peaceful and I felt John so strongly. I felt him telling me this was right and what he wanted. It gave me a burst of confidence and from then on, I knew this was what was best for us. I knew I didn’t have to apologize for the decisions we made as a family and what we planned as husband and wife.