After my mother passed away I’m planning her funeral with my sister and my brother in-law. People handle grief in unique ways. My family drinks lots of vino. The humor tends to run very dark. I guess it’s a coping mechanism.
My sister is on the phone with the funeral home. They suggest an urn that costs fifteen hundred dollars.
My brother in-law, who is cheap, says, “Fifteen hundred bucks? Dude, I can get one on Ebay for ninety nine bucks.”
Then he says, “Look, here’s a lava lamp for fifteen ninety nine. What was her favorite color? Purple? Okay, it comes in purple.”
My sister and I laugh hysterically, fueled by several glasses of pinot grigio. I say, “that is the the darkest thing I’ve ever laughted at.” I wipe away tears from laughing so hard.
Now, my mother was the sweetest person I’ve ever known. She was a piano teacher, choral director and all-around stellar human.
She is the last person on earth who deserves to have her remains placed in a purple lava lamp.
Mom’s remains are in a lovely urn with etchings of flowers.
Ever since then I’ve had an idea to advertise lava lamp urns. “Was your loved one a horrible person? Would you describe them as evil? The Lava Lamp Urn is a perfect urn for you.”