Not everyone can be buried like Khufu, in one of the greatest monuments ever built by man. No one would want to end up like Mozart, thrown into the mass grave of the Sankt Marx cemetery in Vienna. But whether princely or proletarian, death is also a matter of money. Because we can always wait a little before replacing the family sedan. You can also postpone the purchase of a new large format screen by a few months. But Death is the one who chooses when and where to pass through. And checkout.
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DECRYPTION. How much does death cost in France? Obligatory costs, funeral contracts, support… we have deciphered the funeral business
So, obviously, there is pain, revolt, grief and tears from loved ones. Almost always. Paperwork and invoices? Always. And this is often what adds to the distress, it is this ocean of formality which sweeps over those who remain, and who have to take out their wallets at every counter. So, we think of those drawings in Lucky Luke, where the bony undertakers in top hats and threadbare tailcoats, escorted by vultures, rubbed their hands when the duels were announced.
Fortunately, we are no longer in the Wild West, and overall, our compatriots are rather satisfied with funeral professionals. No doubt because their exchanges take place in very specific conditions. On the side of traders, tact and delicacy are essential when offering this or that service. On the parents' side, we experience a sort of anesthesia which puts financial questions into perspective: we don't want to think about it at such times.
Still. The price of death is increasing. Nearly four times the minimum wage, on average for funerals. But many of our fellow citizens are unaware of these prices, because, fortunately, we do not die every day. They therefore do not have the means to compare either. And to see that the bills have skyrocketed, and not just for cremations, sorry for this ease. Cost of coffin wood, energy, soaring places in the cemetery, we are told.
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In fact, in our societies, death has tended to become disembodied, even to disappear. We no longer watch over the deceased, who no longer dies at home, but in the hospital. We find him in an impersonal and icy burial chamber. Each movement of the body is duly controlled, verified, governed by precise and complex laws. Whether the collective farewell takes place at the church or at the crematorium, it is more and more hasty, like a bad moment to be passed as quickly as possible, whatever the cost. These days, death is disturbing: we don't take selfies with coffins.
This All Saints' Day is for many, believers or not, a pause in remembrance for our dearly departed: “The true tomb of the dead is the heart of the living,” said Cocteau.
