My apartment in Sicily
I passed a very sad day a couple of weekends ago. An American lady on holiday in the apartment next to mine had awoken to find that her husband had passed away during the night. So this blog is my lesson on what to do when this happens. I imagine that the process is reasonably similar in any western country, but as I’d never so much as been to a funeral before, I had no idea what to do. I am writing this because I think that anyone travelling should have some idea of what happens so that they can talk to their partner and think ahead in advance.
First, somebody called the ambulance, who then called the police, who then called the coroner. Everything was point on hold waiting for the coroner, who announced that it was death of natural causes, and so the body could be released into the custody of an undertaker. (Otherwise, he would have kept custody until an autopsy was performed). During this time, while the lady was talking to her children, I had a brainwave and called the American Embassy in Rome to ask for help. Unfortunately they didn’t have any travel insurance, otherwise I would have called them as well.
Now comes the tricky part when you are overseas, don’t speak the language and are in shock – finding an undertaker. In this case, the police called a local man who was the most slimy, horrible person I’ve ever met, considering his position of dealing with the (very) recently bereaved. Meanwhile, the American Embassy had called someone that they considered reputable and hence were surprised and suspicious to hear that the body had been given over to someone else.
Lesson number 1 – no one asks for your permission at this point. However, I could have stopped the process if I’d realised what was going on because to complete the paperwork it was necessary to have the address of the final resting place of the body. In this case, I looked up the lady’s home town on the internet and found the local funeral home with their address. (This is where I went wrong – I should have asked for proof that this person was from the company the Embassy had recommended before giving him an address).
So this character followed the ambulance to the hospital where the morgue was located, and no doubt completed some paperwork. At the same time, we went, with the lovely and english speaking owner of the apartment, to the funeral home where it turned out we had to pick a coffin.
Next lesson – in Italy they don’t embalm the body. So when the policeman had come into my apartment to give the lady her husband’s wedding ring, and to ask if she wanted to see him before they took him away (she absolutely did not want to, not having yet passed from the horror stage into grief), it really was the last opportunity she would have had to see her husband.
Because we were so far from the capital of Sicily or any other really big population centre (and it was a Saturday), the deceased’s preferred option of cremation was out of the question (ie no crematoriums in the very Catholic Siracusa). So there we were, not 4 hours after waking up and finding that her husband had died, having to select a coffin and negotiate the price of transferring the body to the USA. A grim experience.
The gentleman in question had been a fairly large man, and so the selection of coffins was limited. Knowing him, the lady was sure that he would have wanted a plain coffin, and being a protestant meant that carvings of the Virgin Mary were particularly unwelcome. However the only plain coffins that were large enough were much more expensive. Fixing a price was also problematic because the undertaker would only know the final cost once the body and coffin were weighed at the airport. I wanted to find away to pay a deposit then only settle once the final price was known as I’m sure this undertaker would be padding the price to be sure. But that turned out to be too difficult…
Because finally there was the matter of payment, as the undertaker would not take credit card and bank transfers from the US would have taken quite a long time (presumably he would have wanted to keep the body until the transfer had come through). Personally my credit card limit wouldn’t have been enough anyway. I think that this might have been where the travel insurance would have come in – hopefully they could have arranged the payment of the €7700 thus avoiding the pain. Fortunately in our case the lady had a friend in Rome who was able to arrange the transfer. My goal had rapidly become to get her the hell out of that awful place with the loud arguing in Italian (our friend the apartment owner was absolutely invaluable here) at just about any price.
The final hurdle was in determining whether the lady was free to go home to her family. There’s a bit of an Italian trait to just say no, or we need more information, or you have to wait for someone else to approve if they don’t know the answer to the question. However the helpful Embassy said that they couldn’t think of any reason why not, so we booked her a flight the next morning home. Another lesson – just go, they can’t stop you. If something goes wrong you’ll be better placed to deal with it from home.
The body did make it home as well after what I suspect was a lengthy chain of custody process involving much paper (somewhere along the line the Embassy in Rome had to issue a special “passport” – another reason to have got them involved as early as possible).
So there you go. Tell your travelling friends and family – be prepared.
But here's my apartment:
But now this car is really cool… (a site vehicle for the maintenance team with their tools)
