Death is an enterprise

It's easily 10 grand, just to put together a simple, "budget" affair. Is that the cost of dignity? Or the value of how much it takes for the people left behind to feel better? How do the really poor afford to die?

Regardless, it's when you (I) become most acutely aware of the kindness of strangers, friends and extended family members, and an admonishment for all the times you (I) have been a callous human being.

It's also a time when you're glad to mindlessly fuss over things like: How much will the funeral services company mark up the packet drinks? Should we buy our own? Have you ever had soya bean milk at a wake? What brand of instant coffee to buy? Should we play mahjong to keep ourselves awake?

Because, what is the alternative? To sit silently and cry?

Did you know that there are gambling den operators who frequent wakes? They politely ask if they can set up shop in a corner and gamblers in the neighbourhood will somehow come together for low-key, overnight sessions. In return, they'll make a contribution to the family. It's a public gambling session made legit, because the police won't bug them. Fascinating. I wonder if we'll get any of those.