You Will Need One Eventually.
Probably.
Welcome to Coffin Info, the only website dedicated to the single most important box you will ever occupy. We understand that planning for one's own interment is not typically a festive activity — but then again, neither is Tuesday, and here we all are.
Whether you are pre-planning with cheerful efficiency, shopping for a loved one, or simply idling away the finite hours between birth and oblivion, we are delighted to assist. Pull up a chair. Preferably not a folding one. Those are for the living.
A Brief History of Coffins
The coffin is humanity's most enduring design object — which is fitting, since it is also the most final. For as long as people have been dying (that is: always), they have displayed an instinct to place the deceased into a container and then argue with relatives about where to put it.
The earliest coffins date to ancient Egypt, circa 3000 BCE, where wealthy Pharaohs were lovingly stuffed into nested wooden boxes, then stone sarcophagi, then pyramids, then — as an afterthought — the entire Nile Delta. The Egyptians understood that the quality of one's coffin reflected directly upon one's afterlife, which explains why Tutankhamun had a solid gold inner coffin while lesser subjects made do with reeds and wishful thinking.
The Egyptians took their coffins seriously. Which is more than we can say for their cats, several thousand of whom were also mummified and placed in coffins, presumably for company.
— Coffin Info Editorial Board
| Era | Development | Editorial Commentary |
|---|---|---|
| 3000 BCE | Egyptian sarcophagi; nested coffins of wood and gilded stone | Extravagant, beautiful, and largely funded by slave labor. On the bright side, the slaves also got coffins. Very small ones. |
| 1000 BCE | Chinese jade burial suits; bronze coffins for royalty | Han dynasty emperors were sewn into thousands of jade tiles held together with gold wire. One assumes this was uncomfortable before the dying part. |
| 400 CE | Roman lead coffins become popular among the upper class | Heavy, expensive, and leached toxins into the surrounding soil for centuries. Essentially the SUV of coffins. |
| 1000–1500 | Medieval Europe: plain wooden coffins, shrouds, communal burial | The Black Death so overwhelmed coffin supplies that bodies were buried in mass pits. An era of democratic death. |
| 1700s | Coffin shape standardized to the classic hexagonal "toe-pincher" design | Wide at the shoulders, narrowing at the feet. Named for its tight fit. Presumably tested on someone. |
| 1800s | Victorian "safety coffins" with bells and breathing tubes invented | Paranoia about being buried alive reached such heights that innovators designed coffins with ropes connected to bells on the surface. This is the origin of the phrase "saved by the bell." It is not a comforting origin. |
| 1900s | American funeral industry standardizes rectangular "casket"; mass production begins | The word "casket" replaced "coffin" in the United States because funeral directors felt it sounded more genteel. It means "small case for jewels." Draw your own conclusions. |
| Present | Biodegradable coffins, mushroom suits, tree pods, and space burials emerge | You can now be composted into a tree, launched into orbit, or turned into a vinyl record. Death, at last, has options. |
The Victorian era deserves special mention, as it represents the pinnacle of coffin-related anxiety. Premature burial was a genuine fear — and not without cause. Medical science had not yet established reliable tests for death, leading to documented cases of people waking up in coffins, in graves, and, on at least one recorded occasion, on the embalmer's table, which must have been an extraordinary conversation for all parties involved.
Edgar Allan Poe wrote about it extensively, which is either evidence of a cultural obsession or simply proof that Poe had a type. Either way, the Victorian obsession with death produced extraordinary coffin furniture: velvet linings, brass fittings, ornate handles, and viewing windows. The Victorians were many things, but they were never casual about a corpse.
Types of Coffins
The modern market offers a bewildering variety of final resting receptacles, ranging from the stately to the whimsical to the genuinely disturbing. We present them here without judgment — except for the ones that genuinely deserve it.
The Traditional Hardwood
Mahogany, walnut, oak, or cherry. The classic choice of people who want their death to say "respectable investment banker" rather than "I had hobbies." Beautifully crafted, generously lined, and deeply buried within the week.
$2,000 – $10,000The Metal Casket
Steel, copper, or bronze. Marketed as "protective," which raises the question: from what? The answer, apparently, is soil compression and the distant spiritual discomfort of being too close to other people's remains. Technically, it protects from nothing. But it gleams magnificently.
$900 – $5,000The Biodegradable
Wicker, bamboo, recycled cardboard, or compressed seagrass. The coffin for people who spent their lives separating their recycling and intend to continue the habit posthumously. Decomposes in a year. Returns nutrients to the soil. The living will be deeply irritated by how on-brand it is.
$100 – $1,500The Mushroom Suit
A full-body garment embedded with mushroom spores that consume the body and neutralize toxins. Invented in 2011. Luke Perry was notably buried in one. The fungi grow through you, which is either poetic or deeply alarming, and we feel strongly that it is both.
$1,500 – $2,500The Tree Pod
Your body (or cremated ashes) is placed inside an egg-shaped biodegradable pod, planted with a seedling. You become a tree. Your family visits a tree instead of a headstone. Your name may or may not be carved into it, depending on how handy your heirs are with a chisel.
$500 – $4,500The Custom / Novelty
Coffins shaped like guitars, books, cars, beer cans, sneakers, or your preferred sports team's logo. Popular in Ghana, where elaborate fantasy coffins are a legitimate art form. In the United States, they are mostly purchased by people who want to be remembered as "fun" and "a lot to deal with."
$3,000 – $25,000The Simple Pine Box
Unfinished wood, minimal construction, maximal humility. The traditional choice of the devout, the frugal, and the philosophically resigned. Also the choice of people who read this website and decided the whole industry could frankly go jump in a lake. Respect.
$200 – $800The Space Burial
Your cremated remains are launched into orbit, sent to the moon, or scattered in deep space. You will technically become a minor debris hazard. However, you will also be in space, which most people don't get to do, so on balance this seems like a win. Celestis and Elysium Space offer packages.
$2,500 – $12,500A Note on the Hexagonal "Toe-Pincher"
The traditional hexagonal coffin — wide at the shoulders, tapering at the feet — was the dominant form for centuries. Its nickname, the "toe-pincher," was earned honestly. Coffin makers in the 1700s and 1800s were not particularly interested in comfort, which in retrospect seems reasonable, though it does say something about the era's general bedside manner.
Liner Materials: A Connoisseur's Guide
Interior linings are typically velvet, crepe, or satin, in colors ranging from dignified white to rose to powder blue, the last of which is inexplicably popular despite making deceased persons look as though they have been placed inside a nursery. Premium options include embroidered panels, personalized quilting, and — in at least one documented case — a replica of someone's living room wallpaper. We neither endorse nor condemn this. We simply note that it happened.
Tips for Purchasing a Coffin
Buying a coffin is one of the most emotionally fraught consumer transactions in human experience, which is why the industry has historically charged whatever it wishes and people have paid it. Armed with information, you may navigate this market like the rational, if slightly morbid, adult you are.
The funeral director who tells you that a cheaper coffin is "disrespectful to your loved one" is the same person who will place that loved one into a $12,000 box and lower it into the ground where it will be entirely invisible within sixty seconds.
— Federal Trade Commission (paraphrased, but barely)
- Know the FTC Funeral Rule (1984) The Federal Trade Commission requires funeral homes to provide itemized price lists, accept coffins purchased elsewhere without charging fees, and not claim that any particular container is legally required. They are also forbidden from implying that embalming prevents decomposition indefinitely, which it does not, which is a fact that one imagines certain funeral directors find professionally inconvenient.
- You May Buy a Coffin Anywhere Funeral homes must accept coffins purchased from third-party retailers, including Costco, Walmart, and dedicated online coffin stores such as Overnight Caskets or Costco's surprisingly well-stocked casket aisle. Yes, Costco sells coffins. In bulk. This may be the most American sentence ever written.
- Do Not Shop in Acute Grief The acute grief period — the first 24 to 72 hours after a death — is precisely when funeral homes expect to be doing business, and precisely when grieving people are least equipped to evaluate price lists with clinical detachment. If at all possible, pre-plan. If not, bring the most emotionally detached person you know. Every family has one. They are often the one who suggested you read this website.
- Ask for the Complete Price List Funeral homes are legally required to hand you this document upon request. Read it. All of it. The line items will be illuminating. You will find charges for things like "facilities use," "administrative overhead," and in at least some documented cases, "memorial enhancement services," which is, apparently, a real phrase used by real people with real faces.
- Understand "Protective" Coffin Claims Coffins marketed as "protective" feature rubber gaskets and sealed lids designed to slow water infiltration. They do not prevent decomposition. They may, in fact, accelerate certain forms of it. The term "protective" is largely aspirational, like "waterproof mascara" or "unlimited data." It protects your feelings, primarily.
- Weight Limits Are Real Standard coffins typically accommodate up to 250–300 lbs. "Oversized" or "bariatric" coffins accommodate more, and cost more, and are a thing that exists. If this applies to you or your loved one, inquire in advance. Discovering the issue at the funeral home is, as one might imagine, a suboptimal time for that particular conversation.
- Interior Dimensions Matter The standard interior length is approximately 78 inches. Taller individuals may require a custom or "oversized" model. One imagines the person who discovers this discrepancy mid-funeral and simply does not enjoy doing so.
- Pre-Planning Benefits the Living Pre-purchasing a coffin spares your family from making emotionally compromised decisions at a financially motivated vendor during the worst week of their lives. It is, genuinely, one of the kindest things a person can do. It is also, admittedly, one of the stranger Sunday afternoon activities.
How to Save Money on Coffins
Death, in addition to being universal and inconvenient, is expensive. The average American funeral runs between $7,000 and $12,000, a sum that one could alternatively spend on a vacation that would, theoretically, reduce the stress that kills you in the first place. Here are strategies for economic restraint in your final transaction.
Buy from a Third-Party Retailer
Costco, Sam's Club, and dedicated online retailers sell coffins at 50–70% below funeral home prices. Costco's entry-level model runs around $1,000. Their "Mahogany Finish" model is approximately $1,600. Funeral homes charge $4,000–$8,000 for comparable products. The coffin is often delivered within 24 hours. Funeral homes are legally required to accept it. This is, as far as we can determine, the greatest secret in American consumer goods.
Choose Direct Cremation
Direct cremation — no viewing, no service, immediate cremation — typically costs $700–$1,500 total. A separate memorial service can be held afterward with zero involvement from the funeral industry. The ashes may then be scattered, kept, turned into jewelry, pressed into vinyl records, launched into space, or placed on the mantelpiece where they will prompt increasingly uncomfortable conversations with houseguests.
Opt for Natural / Green Burial
Green or natural burial requires no embalming, minimal or no container, and plots in natural cemeteries that cost significantly less than conventional ones. Total costs can run under $2,000. You are returned to the earth in the most literal possible sense. Some people find this beautiful. Some find it unsettling. All of them are correct.
Pre-Plan and Pre-Pay
Pre-paying locks in current prices and removes decision-making from grieving relatives. Be cautious: ensure funds are held in a trust regulated by your state, not simply given to the funeral home. Several funeral home chains have, historically, used pre-payment funds to fund operational expenses rather than coffins, which is exactly as catastrophic as it sounds when the time comes.
Get Multiple Quotes
Funeral home pricing varies dramatically within the same city. Calling three to five providers and comparing itemized price lists is tedious, morbid, and extremely effective. Most people do not do this because it feels disrespectful to shop for coffins like they are shopping for a refrigerator. They are not disrespecting the dead. They are simply paying four times more than necessary for an identical box.
Donate the Body to Science
Medical schools and research institutions accept body donations at no cost to the family, and often cover transportation. After study, remains are cremated and returned to the family, usually within one to two years. This option is both economical and — one hopes — educational. If your loved one was a person who enjoyed being useful, there is perhaps no more thorough expression of that quality.
Consider the Rental Casket
Yes. This exists. A rental casket is a full-display outer coffin used for visitation and service, with a removable, hygienically replaced insert for the actual person. It is available at many funeral homes and can reduce costs substantially for those who want a traditional service but not a traditional price tag. If you feel strange about this, simply do not think about it too long.
The funeral industry earned approximately $16 billion in revenue in 2023. There is no version of this statistic that is not profoundly strange.
— IBIS World, summarized without joy
Funeral Options
Modern death offers a surprisingly varied menu of final arrangements. Gone are the days when one simply expired and was placed into the churchyard before anyone could really register an opinion. Today's options range from the deeply traditional to the aggressively avant-garde.
Traditional Burial
The classic. Body is embalmed, dressed, placed in coffin, displayed at visitation, subjected to a formal service, carried in a procession, and interred in a cemetery. Takes approximately three to five days from death to burial. Familiar to anyone who has seen a film involving death, which is to say everyone. Costs: $7,000–$12,000 average.
Cremation
Now the most common disposition in the United States at approximately 57% of deaths. The body is reduced to ash and bone fragments via high-temperature incineration over two to three hours. Remains are returned to the family in a container that is, technically, called a "cremation urn" but which looks, in cheaper versions, uncannily like a hotel ice bucket. Ashes may be kept, scattered, incorporated into jewelry, mixed into tattoo ink, pressed into diamonds, or shot from a cannon. The last option is less common but entirely legal in most jurisdictions.
Green / Natural Burial
No embalming. No vault. Body wrapped in a shroud or placed in a biodegradable coffin. Buried directly in the earth at a natural burial ground, often without a headstone, marked only by a GPS coordinate, a native plant, or a small flat stone. The body decomposes and returns to the ecosystem within one to five years. The most ecologically responsible option. Also, when you think about it for more than thirty seconds, the most ancient.
Aquamation (Alkaline Hydrolysis)
The body is dissolved in a warm, alkaline solution of water and potassium hydroxide over several hours, leaving behind bones and a neutral liquid that is, per its practitioners, safe to discharge into the water system. The bones are then processed and returned to the family. Requires approximately 90% less energy than cremation. Several states have legalized it. Several others have not, presumably because the word "dissolved" makes people uncomfortable, which is understandable but botanically speaking not really different from what happens in the ground.
Terramation (Human Composting)
Legalized in Washington State in 2019 and since adopted by several others. The body is placed in a vessel with organic material — wood chips, straw, alfalfa — and over 30–60 days is converted into approximately one cubic yard of rich compost. The family receives the soil, which can be used in a garden. The closest thing available to literally becoming a plant. Poignant and also rather practical for people with vegetable gardens.
Home Funeral
Entirely legal in most US states. The family cares for the body at home — washing, dressing, and holding vigil — before direct burial or cremation. No funeral home required. Gaining in popularity among people who feel that the commercialization of death is, to put it gently, a bit much. Requires permits, varies by state, and demands a degree of composure that not all families possess in equal measure.
Memorial Service vs. Funeral Service
A funeral service traditionally has the body present. A memorial service takes place without the body — after cremation, for example, or days or weeks after the burial. Memorials are increasingly popular because they allow time for distant family to travel, permit more personalized planning, and generally involve significantly less weeping at the sight of a coffin. They can take place anywhere: a church, a park, a pub, a roller rink. We do not judge. We have seen the pub request go very well.
A Typical Funeral Timeline
For those unfamiliar with the logistics — and there is no shame in this, as most people attend far fewer funerals than they do, say, weddings — the following represents a general timeline for a traditional American funeral. Note that details vary by religion, culture, geography, and the particular chaos of the family involved.
Death is pronounced by a physician or medical examiner. A death certificate is initiated. The body is transported to the funeral home or, if applicable, to the medical examiner's office. Surviving family members begin what will become a weeks-long sequence of phone calls, casseroles, and people saying "let me know if there's anything I can do," which there frequently is and which no one will specify.
Family meets with funeral director to select services, coffin, burial or cremation, and dates. This is when the itemized price list should be requested. It is also when the phrase "we want something dignified but not too expensive" will be interpreted by the funeral director as the opening position in a negotiation they have conducted 4,000 times and you have conducted zero.
Embalming, dressing, and cosmetizing the deceased. The embalming process involves replacing bodily fluids with preservative chemicals and is largely optional despite being presented as standard in most US funeral homes. The Victorians invented the practice during the Civil War to ship soldiers' bodies home for burial. It does not preserve indefinitely. It merely delays the inevitable, which is, in a sense, the theme of this entire enterprise.
The open-casket (or closed-casket) viewing, typically held at the funeral home for two to four hours, one or two evenings. Guests arrive, sign a guest book, contemplate mortality, eat cheese from a tray, and say things like "he looks so peaceful" about someone who demonstrably cannot weigh in on this assessment. The "wake" tradition originated from actually watching the body in case the person woke up. They virtually never did. But, as Chapter I establishes, it happened enough times to warrant the precaution.
Typically one to two hours. Held at a funeral home, church, synagogue, mosque, or other venue of significance. Includes eulogies, readings, musical selections, and — in longer services — at least one extremely unexpected song choice that the deceased specifically requested and which no one can politely object to now.
A motorcade of vehicles, often led by a hearse, drives from the service venue to the cemetery. Cars put on their hazard lights. Other drivers are expected to pull over, which they do approximately 40% of the time, the other 60% being in too much of a hurry to acknowledge the fundamental fact of mortality rolling past them at 25 miles per hour.
Brief (10–20 minutes) ceremony at the graveside. Clergy or officiant speaks. The coffin is lowered. Flowers may be placed. Dirt may be thrown. Family members stand in the cold wondering if they made the right choices, both regarding the funeral arrangements and more broadly in life. This is normal.
Food is consumed. Stories are told. Relatives who have not spoken in years rediscover both their affection for the deceased and their animosity toward each other. Someone gets slightly drunk. Someone else cries unexpectedly in the kitchen. Somebody who barely knew the deceased stays far too long. This is also normal.
Obtaining certified copies of the death certificate (order more than you think you need; you will need more than you think). Notifying banks, insurers, Social Security, pension plans, and the staggering number of subscription services the deceased apparently had and which continue to send cheerful promotional emails.
Parts of a Funeral Service: A Field Guide
The Processional: Entry of the coffin and/or family to music. Traditionally solemn. Occasionally, per the deceased's instructions, "Highway to Hell," which has happened at more funerals than any officiant would care to admit.
Welcome and Opening Words: The officiant sets the tone. In a good service, this means honoring the person's actual life rather than a generic template about being called home. In a less good service, the officiant mispronounces the deceased's name at least twice.
Musical Selections: Two to three songs, selected by the family or pre-requested by the deceased. "My Way" by Frank Sinatra and "Time to Say Goodbye" are statistically the most common. "Don't Fear the Reaper" is more common than you'd expect.
Eulogies: One to three speakers, typically family members or close friends, each allotted five to seven minutes, most of whom will speak for twelve. See the sample speeches below for reference material.
Readings: Scripture, poetry, or meaningful prose. The 23rd Psalm. Something from Mary Oliver. Occasionally, something the deceased wrote themselves, which is either deeply moving or mildly alarming depending on the content.
The Committal: Final words before interment. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." A phrase that manages to be both profoundly true and profoundly unhelpful at the same time.
The Recessional: Coffin and family depart. More music. Guests stand in place, unsure whether to move, which is the truest and most universal experience of the entire ceremony.
How to Escape a Coffin
If Buried Alive
Important Disclaimer
Modern medical science makes premature burial extraordinarily rare. Brain activity, cardiac cessation, and legal death certificates make it exceedingly unlikely that you will ever need this information. However, the Victorians were not wrong to worry, several people have documented waking in coffins before final burial, and this is the sort of information that is genuinely useless until it isn't. We present it in the spirit of thoroughness.
Also, for legal reasons: we are not suggesting you practice this. Do not climb into a coffin to practice this. We cannot believe we have to say this. We are saying it anyway.
The first thing to understand about escaping a coffin is that Hollywood has given everyone extremely unrealistic expectations. In films, a character punches through the lid, claws through six feet of soil, and emerges gasping into rain-soaked moonlight. In reality, this would require the upper body strength of a competitive powerlifter, approximately four to six hours of sustained effort, and lungs that do not require air, which you have and which would run out long before you reached the surface.
The second thing to understand is that modern burial vaults — the concrete liner placed around most coffins in US cemeteries — make external soil collapse largely moot. But they also make escape essentially impossible by conventional means. The following advice pertains primarily to the period before interment, or to burial without a vault.
- Do not panic. This is the most important instruction and the most impossible to follow. Panic increases heart rate, which accelerates oxygen consumption, which reduces your time in consciousness from roughly 45–90 minutes to something considerably shorter. Breathe slowly and shallowly. Think of something calming. We recommend not thinking about where you are.
- Assess the lid immediately. Knock on it. Does it sound hollow or solid? Does it flex? Cheaper wooden coffins have thinner lids that can be broken. Metal coffins generally cannot be breached from inside without tools. If you are in a metal coffin, proceed immediately to step 5.
- If the coffin has not been buried: This is far the best-case scenario. Yell. Pound. Kick. The latch on most coffins is on the exterior, but the hinge pins on cheaper models can sometimes be forced. If there is a crack of light visible, direct all energy toward that point. The lid, if wooden, will weaken at its weakest point, typically the center.
- If the coffin has been buried: Punch upward with both fists wrapped in your shirt or jacket — this prevents soil from burying your face immediately when the lid breaks. Work methodically from the center outward. You are attempting to create fractures, not a single dramatic punch. You are not in a film. We want to be very clear about this.
- Create a breathing pocket. When the lid begins to fracture, soil will fall in. Tuck your shirt or jacket over your face as a filter. The soil directly above you is relatively loose and may be swum through by pushing upward while covering your airway. The technique: hands above head, push up and forward in a swimming motion, never letting soil settle above your face.
- Do not go straight up in packed soil. Angle slightly. Packed cemetery soil is 15–25% air by volume; you are pushing through it, not digging. Move toward any source of light or temperature differential you can sense. It exists. Graveyards are not underground rooms. They are fields.
- Make noise upon reaching surface. If it is night, cemetery workers will not be present. Shout, wave, and move toward the cemetery exit or road immediately. Do not sit on your grave to collect yourself. This is excellent advice for metaphorical as well as literal reasons.
The Victorian safety coffin — featuring a bell on the surface connected by string to the occupant's hand — was not considered eccentric at the time. It was considered responsible. This tells you everything about the Victorian era, and also something about ours.
— Coffin Info, with genuine fondness for the Victorians
Modern Safety Measures
Several companies currently sell "safety coffins" or burial alert systems, including models with oxygen tanks, two-way communication systems, heart monitors, and emergency alarm signals. They cost between $500 and $5,000 and are, per actuarial tables, almost certainly unnecessary. They are also, one must admit, deeply reassuring for people who lie awake at night thinking about it, which is more people than any of us discuss at dinner.
The Coeio Safety Pod features a built-in motion detector that sends an alert to a designated contact if movement is detected post-burial. This product exists. You may purchase it. We find this information both comforting and, in the 3 AM hours, extremely unsettling.
Sample Funeral Memorial Speeches
A good eulogy is honest, personal, and occasionally funny — because laughter, even at a funeral, is a form of love. A bad eulogy is vague, generic, and delivered by someone who clearly has not spoken to the deceased in eleven years and is working from a newspaper obituary and vibes. The following samples are offered as templates, inspiration, or cautionary tales, depending on your needs.
We are gathered here to say goodbye to a woman who, frankly, had no intention of ever leaving.
Grandma Evelyn was ninety-four years old when she died, which, if you knew her, you will recognize as a number she found completely unacceptable. She had plans. She had opinions about the garden that needed delivering. She had a standing appointment with her soap opera that no one — not illness, not family visits, not the persistent requests of the entire medical community — had ever successfully interrupted.
She was born in 1930, during the Depression, and she handled that Depression the same way she handled every subsequent challenge in life: by ignoring it, feeding everyone within reach, and expressing a suspicion that people in this era were fundamentally soft. She was not wrong. She was also not always right. She held these positions simultaneously and without discomfort.
She raised five children, outlived two husbands, survived a kitchen fire, a stock market crash, and three separate attempts by her grandchildren to explain the internet to her. She described the internet as "a fad." She may still be right about this.
What I want you to remember is not the ninety-four years. Ninety-four years is just a number. What I want you to remember is that she always answered the phone. Whenever you called, she answered. At midnight, at six in the morning, during her shows. She always answered. In a world that increasingly doesn't, she always did.
Goodbye, Grandma. We will keep the kitchen light on. Although frankly, we suspect you already know where it is.
My father was not an easy man to love. He required practice. He required — let's be honest — an orientation period of approximately eight to ten years before you understood that what he meant by most things was the opposite of what he said.
He complained about Christmas every year from October until December 26th, at which point he began looking forward to the next one. He said the grandchildren were "too much" and asked where they were if they didn't come to dinner on Sunday. He said the dog was a nuisance and fed it from his own plate every night for eleven years. He said he didn't like fuss and planned his own birthday party.
He was, in the terminology of our era, a man of contradictions. In the terminology of those of us who knew him, he was a man who could not bear to want things openly. Who found expressions of need intolerable. Who showed love exclusively through action, by fixing the car without being asked, by showing up three hours early to help with any project you mentioned, by pressing cash into your hand while audibly denying he was doing it.
He drove me absolutely crazy for forty-three years. I have been awake since 2 AM since Tuesday. I cannot explain this combination except to say that it is grief, and that grief is just love with nowhere left to go, and that I had, apparently, a great deal of it.
He was a very difficult man to love and I loved him very much. I hope that somewhere he is annoyed by how long this speech is and pleased that I made it anyway.
I was asked to give this speech because, quote, "you knew her best." What this actually means is that I was the only person she told everything to, which means I am also the only person in this room currently in possession of several significant secrets that I will be taking with me to a grave that I hope is a great deal further off than hers.
She made me promise not to say anything too sad. She was very clear about this. "Don't you dare cry up there," she said. "Say something funny or I will haunt you." She absolutely would. I have no doubt. I've already heard the floorboard.
So here is what I'll say. She was the kind of person who made everything more interesting than it would otherwise have been. Grocery shopping. Traffic. The worst breakup of my life, which she accompanied me through with wine, extraordinary cruelty toward the ex in question, and a level of creative profanity I will not reproduce in a house of worship. She made ordinary things feel like adventures and bad things feel like stories you'd tell later. I am telling this story later. I did not expect to tell it this soon.
She asked me once what I thought happened after death. I said I didn't know. She said, "I think it's like before you were born. Nothing. Just nothing. And that was fine, wasn't it? Before you existed? It was fine." I said I supposed it was. "Exactly," she said. "Nothing to worry about." And then she stole a french fry off my plate and the conversation was over.
Nothing to worry about. She was right, probably. She usually was. I miss her already in a way that takes up a lot of space.
There's a particular kind of person who believes, with total sincerity, that the cure for everything is a walk. Heartbreak? Walk. Illness? Walk. Existential dread? Walk, but a longer one, and bring water.
Tom was that person. He believed in the restorative properties of moving through the world under one's own power with such conviction that he once made his entire family take a four-mile nature hike on Christmas morning before presents, which you'll note is the reason his grandchildren are currently in therapy. He was not sorry about this. He genuinely believed they would thank him someday.
He learned the names of every bird in this county. Not just the common ones. The warblers. The individual species of sparrow. He could tell them apart by call from about thirty meters and was not above correcting people who misidentified them, which he did at volume, which made birdwatching with him what one might politely describe as an educational experience.
He wanted to be buried without a vault, in the ground at the natural cemetery outside town, under a white oak. He said he spent his whole life outside and saw no reason to spend eternity in a sealed box under six inches of concrete. He wanted to feed something. He wanted to keep being useful. This is the most Tom thing he ever said.
His plot is under a white oak. It's raining today. I think he would find this appropriate. I think he'd say the soil needed it.
I was asked to say something. I've been trying to figure out what to say for four days and I still don't know. So I'm just going to say the true thing.
He was my person. Everybody has one — the one person who you call first. The one person who gets it without explanation. The one who would've come at 3 AM and who you'd go to at 3 AM. He was mine.
I don't have a lesson or a metaphor. I don't have a story that captures it. I just have the fact of him, which I'm going to have to carry differently now. That's all. That's all I've got.
Thank you for being here. He would've been glad you came. He would've pretended not to care, and he would've been glad.
A note on delivery: A printed copy of your eulogy is non-negotiable. Memory under grief is unreliable. Voice will tremble. Eyes will blur. Speaking from notes is not weakness; it is how human beings function in the presence of genuine loss. Bring the paper. If you cry, pause, breathe, continue. No one in that room wants you to stop. They are all in the same place you are. You are simply the one standing up.