On the date this column officially runs, I will be celebrating a birthday. It’s not a milestone or anything, but I always view birthdays as a good time to take stock. Mentioning to Jon that I am mindful of approaching my expiration date, he remarked that I’m older than I’ve ever been before but also younger than I’ll ever be again. Gee thanks,, honey. It does take me twice as long to look half as good, but saying I look great at 78 would have been a more welcome sentiment.
Yes, I can’t do some things I used to take for granted, but thankfully I can still drive, which is good because my son lives in the Valley, and my daughter is in the Madison area. I wish they were closer so I could spend more time with them, especially with my granddaughter, who is growing up way too fast. When I do go to visit, I take frozen casseroles and soups and brownies. Even though I don’t eat a bite of this food, I feel full and satisfied providing it.
That said, there is one major task I have completed that will also save my children time — and grief. Some people think it’s morbid, but I’m preparing for the day when we say goodbye forever. I’m not doing this because I think they can’t; I’m doing it so that they won’t have to.
Thanks to now-retired Oconto attorney Bill Leege, Jon and I each drafted and signed a durable power of attorney, health care directive, last will and testament. Of course, you can never anticipate every single thing that might cause problems, which you will be too dead to solve, but with Bill’s expert advice, we feel confident that we have covered the legal biggies.
Good start, but there was much more to do. When our church sponsored a session conducted by a local funeral home director, Jon and I went to update ourselves on what are called “final arrangements.” The session was very interesting and informative; there were so many answers to questions I never knew I had. At breakfast afterward, Jon and I resolved to do what we could ahead of time to spare our children the agony of trying to figure out “what Mom and Dad would want.”
First decision: what should happen to our bodies when we die. Neither of us wants to take up space six feet under, so cremation was the obvious choice. Though we aren’t going to be buried, we nevertheless want to be permanently memorialized in a cemetery. You may disagree, but my view is that if your name isn’t on a monument somewhere, it’s as if you never lived. Okay, it’s not that I think that after you die you are there. No, a tombstone is living proof that you were here.
Next question, where to put our memorial marker. Jon’s from Elderon, and there’s an empty lot next to his folks who are buried in the pastoral Elderon Cemetery. Jon’s roots are definitely there, but mine aren’t. Besides, he’s been gone for so long that most people who would go there have no idea who he is — or was. My folks are buried in Sacred Heart Cemetery in Sherwood, but Jon has no ties there and the same lack of current connections applies to me.
The logical choice was Forest Home Cemetery in Townsend. We bought property on the flowage in 1993 and have lived here full-time since 2002. We were lucky to find a lovely plot under a tree near the edge of the access road. Excellent. Now all we needed was the stone. We made an appointment with Schneider Monument in Shawano.
As we walked among the samples in front of the office, I was a tad concerned we might not agree on this, but in less than an hour, we found the perfect one. All that was left to do was personalize it. Not surprisingly, Jon chose a majestic whitetail buck standing among pines. I came up empty until the owner, who also had a place on the flowage, suggested something about my Townsend books. Perfect. Our inscription was the finishing touch: “He found Townsend • She wrote its history.” All the kids have to do is add our entrance and exit dates.
Jon views our headstone weekly because it’s on the road to the dump (recycling center). Last year, when as a Legion volunteer he was putting out Memorial Day flags, he almost put one there. We still get a chuckle out of that. Death isn’t funny, but it is comforting to know our kids won’t have to do these tasks, and we have “saved our lives.” Our cemetery monument is a testament that we lived, we loved, we mattered. It’s all there in Townsend Forest Home Cemetery, etched in stone.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer, and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
Remember a life by getting a tombstone
