Dad's funeral

Thinking that since my dad had to foresight to plan his funeral and prepay the same, handling the specifics of the funeral would be easy. Not. At. All. The entire ordeal was a nightmare.
Even though his death was certainly not a surprise, his being 93 was a great factor , when death does ultimately comes it is a very emotional time. We were staying at the little place in the hill country, and came into San Antonio on Monday morning to finalize the funeral and bring his clothing. We had set the funeral date for noon on Wednesday over the phone on Saturday so the family would be able to get there and return home easily. I should have known something was amiss when they kept referring to Dad by another name. They switched two letters which gave him another very common German name.
We sat down with the funeral director to go down the list of things that were "required" or were "expected" with a funeral. I knew there would be a fee to bring the body to San Antonio, but the fees added up to an additional $875. Well, OK. I wanted Dad to have the best and what he wanted. Then I got to thinking about the $210 fee for the motorcycle escort to the cemetery. On the original contract, that was to be included. Another thing that was listed was funeral cards for $20. I knew it was going to be a very small affair, at best. Why did we need them? Everyone who would attend would know all the information. But I still wanted things to be good. I didn’t know that was only the beginning of the ordeal.
We then were told we had to go to the cemetery to sign papers that would authorize them opening the crypt and putting him in. That was the beginning of the end. They had no records of Dad. They had the other name, but not his. Fortunately I had the deed, and after a few moments they were able to find the information. The only problem, they already had all the funerals they could handle on Wednesday.
One role of the funeral director is to call the cemetery to let them know they had a coffin coming and when. The cemetery claimed they got no such call. They did, however, have the other name on the board. I know that because they said the other name. Since we had not contacted them, they did not reserve a spot. Now I have the immediate family coming from Houston. They have made arrangements at work and all. I have V’s son coming from California. There would be no placing in the crypt. The cemetery person called the funeral director to tell him that it couldn’t happen. He asked to talk to me. He asked if we couldn’t put the funeral off until Thursday! He knew the situation, but still had the nerve to ask that!
I dissolved into tears. I couldn’t bear up any longer. Finally, the cemetery said they could put him into the tomb at 3. We decided that would have to do. I knew we couldn’t be there, and my son was going to drive back to Houston that afternoon. We were in a quandary. The cemetery person told us that only the funeral director had to be there. I didn’t like this, but what was I going to do? The family had made arrangements.
In the meantime I called Dad’s Pastor. He was out to lunch. I called two hours later - he was still out to lunch. The church finally called me three and a half hours later. He could do the service. One more worry line for me though.
When I called my daughter, she was very upset. She thought we should be there at the placement into the tomb. I tried to explain to her that was the worst part for me anyway. There was no pleasing her. I just let it go.
Tuesday was a fairly pleasant day. I thought everything was covered. What a fool I was. I was in blissful ignorance. I wish I could have stayed there.
Wednesday we go into town. I am so upset with the funeral director, I waited in the car for the time to get closer to the funeral time so I didn’t have talk to him. I am beginning my letter of complaint to the funeral home. He comes out to the car and begins to explain that the cemetery should hire more people. HIS cemetery makes allowances. Why couldn’t the one we were going to do the same?
About the time we get ready to go in, I notice the two police escorts. What are they escorting? There will be no procession.
My cell phone rings. My son is lost. It takes him an hour to get to the mortuirary. The tension is rising.
There is only the family at the funeral. Me, G, our two children and spouses, G’s brother and sister in law, G’s parents, and V’s son. I know Dad had been gone from San Antonio for three plus years, and I know he outlived most of his friends, but this was unreal. I couldn’t believe no one else was there. I felt like such a failure. I couldn’t even pull off a pre-paid, pre-planned funeral.
I paid for an obituary for Tuesday’s paper. It was not there! It was not in Wednesday’s paper. I couldn’t believe I spent about $150 for something that never appeared. Finally on Thursday night, K called me to tell me that her mother in law found it on Thursday. What good does that do? If people wanted to come to the funeral, it was too late. If they wanted to express condolences, they have no address. That also explains why there was no others in attendance at the funeral.
So I had to deal with the grief of my dad’s passing, the discontent caused by not having the procession to the cemetery, and the fact that the obituary never ran as it should have. I always felt dealing with funeral directors was detestable, but now I really feel that way. They prey on people when they are at their most vulnerable. I plan to get as many details of my funeral nailed down as I can, and let my loved ones know that if there are the same type of problems they should not take it personally. I’m gone and won’t know about it. Let it go. Now if I could do that now . . .