I thought I'd already posted on this. Now I'll have to settle in because I have a lot to say.
In 2001 my neighbor died suddenly. Because I had a Death and Dying course, I knew that there are virtually no laws restricting burial here in West Virginia; but because he had no history of heart attack, though he was 75, the sheriff had to sign off before the coroner could be allowed to release the body back to us. Meanwhile my husband organized a gravedigging crew, my neighbors didn't go to work (or came back in one case) or school, we began cooking and another friend put together a simple wooden coffin. Unfortunately the sheriff was tied up in court till 5; we were all gathered and ready by then.Two of us accompanied the new widow to the coroner's to wait on release of her husband's body I remembered being on edge from the sound of an unseen two-year old's crying, and thinking afterwards that the usual funeral (my father-in-law died two months from that time) was as artificial as the plastic cherry tree blooming near where we waited. Finally we were on our way; as we climbed a hill and came around the bend at dusk, to suddenly see 50 people with candles--a moment I'll never forget. The coffin was borne to the grave and lowered on stout ropes as we sang Amazing Grace and Will the Circle Be Unbroken, and recited a Buddhist prayer (this couple had been part of a meditation group). The widow told me later, "I felt borne aloft by the caring of all those people," and "I didn't know how I'd get through the rest of my life without Ted, but I knew then that I wasn't facing it alone." And I thought: Doing this the simple way our ancestors did it for thousands of years is a comfort; it's like we're connected to those people, however unknown. And I thought--what the undertaker adds is an interfering stranger in the midst of a group of people trying to come together around a hole that has opened up in their midst. And a big drain on the family's finances.
There was a book I learned a lot from Called Your Final Act of Love, which spelled out the reasons it's best to do everything for a dead loved one yourself, and what the laws were in all 50 states--it's probably out of date. But it emphasized a point I want to lean on hard here: the time to find out what the laws are where you live, and where your parents live, and to have conversations about what people want for when they die, is NOW. If you're unprepared, and suddenly someone is dead, you're vulnerable to that funeral director saying he'll "take care of everything<"--which he will, for several thousand dollars. It's overwhelming to deal with these decisions on the worst day of your life. But if you've already made these decisions, then you just have to carry them out, and the most stricken persons will be assisted by more peripheral people in doing so. They want to help, they just don't know what to do. Sarah told me she had trouble convincing Ted to have this conversation; finally she said, "Ted, let's just pretend for the moment that you're mortal, so we can talk about this," and that worked.
Since that time, a neighbor and my sister died, and we dealt with it the same way. My husband built coffins for both of them, and the funeral home (Involved because they had to transport the bodies from hospitals) said they were the best simple coffins he'd ever seen and could he get the maker interested in building more--also said when someone else made Ted's coffin--but in neither case was there interest, they were willing to build a coffin as a gift but not to do it as a moneymaking operation. And when I go, my request is no coffin at all just a sheet will do.
So. You DON'T have to hire funeral director, or have embalming or an absurd, horribly expensive coffin to interrupt the body's return to the streams of life; it need cost very little; and you should look into the laws, and the preferences of your loved ones, now.