Flush Grammie Down the Toilet

 

I don’t know why this story bothers me so much.

Bangor Daily News, which I always check on the iPad with my morning coffee, held a story today about a local crematory offering a new service. http://tinyurl.com/flushgrammie 

For a mere $1,995, you can now get your dearly departed boiled in water and lye for twelve hours, with the resulting liquid remains simply deposited in the town “wastewater system.” In other words, dissolve Grammie in a harsh chemical and flush her down the toilet. The remaining bones will be ground up and delivered to you as a “cremation-style” by-product.

Seriously?

The story touts the environmental benefits (save 40 gallons of propane!). The liquidators say their service is extremely popular, one that will appeal to “people who choose to drive a Prius,” according to the Bangor Daily News. And this is the first place in the country to offer it for any purpose other than disposing of medical cadavers and animals! Woo Hoo! Aren’t we the innovators! 

Funny, I drive a hybrid, albeit not a Prius, yet this process doesn't appeal to me one bit. Never mind that a regular old cremation costs half that much.

EEUUWW!!

If environmental awareness is your motive, can’t you just wrap Grammie in a cotton sheet and bury her sans coffin in a green cemetery, letting nature take its course? In my case, it would be cool to use quilting fabric, but either way, it would keep me out of the sewer! I am a sew-er, as in one who sews. I do not want my remains in the shit plant.

And as a marketing tool, is flushing Grammie that appealing? Really?

Now I’m the first to say I really don’t care, at least I haven’t until now, what happens to my physical body after death. David and I have an agreement, whomever has to deal with the departed spouse may do as the survivor needs/wants to do to facilitate healthy grieving and healing. But I think I’ll have to put my foot down on this.

Speaking of putting my foot down, there is a legend near us about a general who allegedly had his wife burned for a witch, and she pledged to have her foot on his neck forever. In perpetuity, a stain in the shape of a woman’s stocking has appeared on his gravestone. Whether you believe it or not, it’s a cool story.

But if David decides to flush my dissolved remains into the Searsport sewer, as in waste disposal plant, a foot on his gravestone will be the least of his worries.