As my phone lit up, the word ‘Mum’ flashed on the screen.
My mother calling me isn’t unusual – she lives 40 miles away – but this conversation was different.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the reason for the call became apparent: Mum wanted to know how I felt about her and Dad getting direct cremation after they’re gone.
There’d be no service. No pomp and ceremony. Just their ashes delivered back to me.
‘Are you sure you’re OK with that?’ my mum asked me. ‘Doing it this way means you don’t have to worry about anything when we die. It’s all sorted for you.’
And there it was. What it really came down to: money.
We’ve never been a wealthy family, consisting of just my parents and me.
I was born on a Derbyshire council estate and, while my background doesn’t evoke any personal shame, it goes without saying that money was tight. Nevertheless, my parents always ensured I had what I wanted, often at the expense of their own needs.
I got the Barbie or new clothes I raised hell for, all while my parents reduced their weekly shopping budget and struggled to put fuel in the car. I may never have been a rich kid, but I’ve always been loved – and that’s what matters the most to me.
Whenever Mum and I have spoken about her funeral over the years, she’s always said that she wants I’m Going Home from Rocky Horror Picture Show played. As for Dad, I’m not exactly sure what he would pick, though I reckon Billy Joel’s Vienna would be up there.
Up until the phone call, they’d never really gone into any other details. Yet, the way they talked about it always referenced a service of some kind.
Like when my dad would joke that few people would attend his funeral. Or how Mum wanted people to wear what they wanted rather than dressing formally.
That’s why it was a surprise when my parents called me to discuss their updated plans of having a direct cremation.
Essentially, the plan is for their bodies to be collected, cremated, and then sent to either the remaining spouse or me – all without any kind of formal memorial service. These two brilliant people will be shipped like a package.
Their decision for direct cremation stems, in part, from the death of my grandad in 2022. Even though he prepaid for most of his funeral, unexpected costs, such as paying for interment, added to the stress of his death.
That, on top of additional stressors, like having to settle debts we didn’t know he had, affected the whole family. Everyone was already distraught, then they had to deal with unfortunate surprises that compounded the grief.
Unlike my dad (who has two siblings) and my mum (who has four), I’m an only child. So my parents didn’t want me having to deal with funeral planning during the depths of grief like they had to with my granddad.
The cost of purchasing his plot, paying for a solicitor, then the interment itself, came to £250. To my family, that’s a lot of money. But even if I wasn’t an only child, my parents still can’t afford any other option.
The latter in particular is what breaks my heart.
They were quoted £1,500 for the cremation, compared to upwards of £4,000 for a burial. Obviously, the former is a bargain in contrast.
But I hate that they’re essentially being penalised for being less financially able, having to settle for a very basic funeral to ensure I don’t suffer beyond the grief I’ll be feeling.
Of course, I can always arrange a personal service for them on my own terms – where I’ll likely play their respective songs – but the fact that the choice was taken away from us still stings.
And we’re not alone.
As of 2023, approximately 20% of ‘all funerals were described as direct cremations’, which is an increase of 11% since 2020. I can’t speak for everyone, yet I suspect that the lack of great expense is behind their increase in popularity.
My parents say they don’t mind and I believe them. In fact, in some ways, not having a conventional funeral is fitting because they’ve never been one for norms, so why start now?
I just wanted more for them. Then again, I always have.
After all their hardships and sacrifices, I wanted them to be able to have the most incredible send-off befitting two of the most compassionate people I know. Instead, they’ve used what minimal savings they have to pay for two very basic plans for after they’re gone.
Unfortunately, options like funeral insurance or monthly payment plans aren’t viable for them.
My mum is disabled, working part-time from home earning money that barely covers all of their bills, and my dad is her unpaid carer. What little money they get from my dad’s basic state pension and my Mum’s PIP – which is meagre, to say the least – is used to survive. Extras like payment plans and insurance are a luxury they can’t afford.
In an ideal world, funerals with a proper burial would be affordable for all. At the end of the day, I believe everyone deserves access to the same level of care in death as in life.
For funeral options to become more affordable, we need to be able to afford the cost of living.
Even though a funeral is just another social construct from our culture that we adhere to, this ritual of tradition is important in that it allows us to mark the passing of someone we love.
Shouldn’t such an occasion be carried out exactly how the deceased wanted? It would just be nice if they had true control in how they say their final farewell.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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