My Dad’s folks are buried in a memorial park style cemetery, the type of cemetery where the markers are all flush with the ground. From your car (and you need a car to get there) you may as well be on a slightly shabby golfcourse. When you get out and look at the ground, however, you see who’s buried where. One day, while visiting his folks’ graves, he noticed a new marker had been put in nearby. He went over to see who his future neighbors would be and—Behold!—the couple from next door! Who were still very much alive. I’ve worked in cemeteries—the way you say it is that they had their marker placed “pre-need.”
My Dad absolutely loved that. He measured out the number of steps from his future grave to theirs (seventeen!). And he never, ever pointed out to them that they would be Forever And Ever Neighbors. One of my favorite Dad moments happened when I was sitting with him on our front porch swing and he was in full-on gloat-mode. He explained the situation to me again, taking it to the necessary conclusion: “And the best part about it, you know what the best part is? They say when the Good Lord comes on that Final Day, He’ll come from the East—they’re gonna be staring at my ass!”Have I mentioned yet how much I love that man?