There’s this guy who dies in a crash, in a distant land where he’d spent the past ten years or so of his life.
Difficult contacting his family. It takes a while. Would you know the phonenumbers of your best friend’s parents?
The family can’t, or doesn’t want to, attend the funeral, let alone organize it.
So it’s the crowd of the deceased’s favourite bar that jumps, and chips, in.
The body is cremated.
What to do with the remainder? Until the family arrives? Until someone has taken a decision? But who is to decide?
Things take a while. None of the deceased’s friends really want to take the box with ashes & bones home, no thanks, as much as we liked him.
It ends up at the most natural place.
In the bar.
Just standing there, for about a month, while people are chatting, drinking, dancing, fighting. Just some inconspicuous box, next to other inconspicuous boxes.
The box stays there until preparations are being made for sending it off to where the parents live.
Mailing a box with ashes & bones of a person is just as expensive as a two-way airplane ticket. Did you know that? Can you believe it?