I told you I was sick

My Grandma died last week. She was 85. No doubt about it, she's had a good innings. She was fit and well (though she wouldn't admit it) until the end - and passed away peacefully.

But what an absolute eye-opener the week since has been - not least of all discovering about the incredible industry which has built up around death.

I doubt there is a reporter - or at least a reporter with more than a couple of years experience under their belt - who hasn't either written about or come across a family who've been told they they have to alter a funeral service/grave because it doesn't fit with regulations.

Sometimes it is simply having a picture on the headstone and understandably it causes uproar. The one I remember most is the mother who was in tears because the local council had asked her to remove the singing Santa from her dead daughter's gravestone. She couldn't understand why people had complained about a motion-activated Father Christmas singing 'Jingle Bells' going off every time they passed to go to their memorial of choice.

And, at the time, I couldn't understand why she had put it on there in the first place. Just like I couldn't understand why people in Newcastle are now having special black-and-white-striped headstones in the shapes of football shirts being placed on the graves of Newcastle United fans. Surely they'd suffered enough during their lives?

Then there's the incredible floral tributes you see at funerals now. One funeral I went to - for work - was to mark the passing of a two-year-old killed by his childminder. I was a bit taken aback at first to see a floral 'Henry Hoover' next to the coffin, but all became clear in church. It had been the thing he liked playing with most, his mum's hoover.

I remember leaving the church thinking what a thoughtful touch that was, obviously thought up by the family and made as a special request. As opposed to the two-foot high 'GRANDMA' 'DAD' ''UNCLE" or (if the florist is really lucky) "STEP MOTHER IN LAW" that appear to be bought for many funerals these days.

Go into florists and say its a funeral and its only a matter of time before they're suggesting a generic 'empty chair' or 'pearly gates' to show how much you cared.

My question is this: When did a funeral become the chance to show you cared more about someone than the next mourner by spending the most on the tribute?

My answer is this: When florists realised there was as much money to be made from dying as there is from getting married - in fact more, because we all HAVE to die. Marriage is merely voluntary pain.

And it's not just florists. How many times have you seen horse-drawn carriages taking coffins to church? I know parts of Lancashire are backward, but not so much so that they haven't heard of a motor-powered hearse.

Then you get to the upkeep of the grave. My Nan and Grandad have a simply memorial stone near to the crematorium where they moved on to the next world. I put flowers in it when I visit, as do the rest of my family. The graveyard section, at times, looks like something Willy Wonka could have created - bright colours, strange objects, interesting sounds. And where exactly do people by those glittery windmills from which are normally on sale at the seaside.

This particular cemetery is near Birmingham - about as landlocked as you can get. But guess what, the florist has them in stock!

I don't mean to pick on florists - there are others out there at it too. Getting people at their most vulnerable, making people feel not splashing out shows a lack of respect.

And while I don't doubt that a lot of people get fleeced into having the best wedding ever, can we really be proud of a country which encourages us to keep up with the Joneses when dispatching of a loved one?

You can't take it with you, after all.


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