The caskets were lined in the showroom like brand new cars. Gleaming with pristine sterility in the corner were the Rolls Royce of coffins with their dark cherry wood and gold handles, followed by the Mercedes collection with their mahoganies and vacuum lock sealers. The Mortuary Associate, a man in his late 20’s, looked a tad cliched in his black suit, his white skin and elegantly coifed black hair but it gave him an air of kindness and all-knowing sophistication.

He moved to the steel coffins which offered us a wider selection of color.

“This is a nice forest green,” the salesman mumbled, his elegant fingers sliding across the detailed chrome.

I wanted to ask if we could take it out for a test run but I realized I wasn’t buying a Honda.

“Do you have anything in purple?” Asked Maxfield. “She loved purple.”

The salesman paused, suddenly unsure, looking at his paperwork. “Oh, I’m sorry. The death certificate stated a Mr. Hugo Ciccarelli.”

“Yes,” said Maxfield. “And she liked purple.”

The man looked at Maxfield, Eric, Fran, and myself with a stare of confusion, until finally he realized the customer is always right even when discussing the deceased’s sexual identity. The young man walked over to his desk and scanned his computer. “I have a purple one at our location in Tucson that has an ivory interior. I can have it here in 4 days.”

“Do you have anything with a yellow interior?” Asked Maxfield.

We all paused, realizing chances were slim. “Uhhh…” responded the salesman. “No, I don’t.”

Maxfield began to cry and Fran quickly led him into a dark corner.

“How about that silver one over there?” I asked. We moved to one that had its lid open, exposing a simple white interior. It was elegant, sophisticated, and seemed to fit the grandeur and understatement that was Hillary.

“Maxfield,” called out Eric, motioning him over.

He shook his head. From the corner of the room we heard his murmured reply, “You pick.”

The Mortuary Associate immediately went into “sell mode,” showing us the various features of the casket and the various payment plans that could include flowers, cemetery plots, and chapel rental. I wanted to ask if they offered any THIS IS YOUR LIFE stage shows, buffets, or Marianne Williamson video presentations--- not to mention any possible deals with Hertz hearse rentals that could add points to my frequent flier mileage?

Eric quickly took the reigns, simply saying we were only interested in the casket and had already made other arrangements. The young man simply nodded and led us over to his desk as we began the paperwork. A sign on the desk said they took American Express. Now THAT would be a commercial for Visa. Can you imagine? “When you’re dead and you want to be buried in Los Angeles’ premiere cemetery, make sure your surviving relatives have a Visa card. Because while you’re turning into worm food, they’re paying the bill and they don’t take American Express.” Can you imagine your statement? “One coffin: $2900.”

Death is about grieving and loss, but it’s also about commerce and business. I reached over and took Eric’s hand as he filled out the remaining paperwork. Maxfield continuing sobbing in the corner.