The Wolves Beside the Bed\n\nMy aunt Linda died in the hospital at 3:07 a.m. By sunrise her children were fighting over where to cremate her, who controlled remains, who had legal authority, and whether she “would have wanted” the cheaper package. She was still in the room when it started. One son wanted burial because it looked respectable. Daughter wanted cremation because nobody had money. Other son wanted delay until accounts could be checked. Checked. That word said everything. There was no will, no prepaid funeral plan, no written instructions. Just three damaged adults trying to turn grief into leverage. I’m a nurse. I’ve seen families cry, collapse, pray, numb out. But the ugliest ones become accountants instantly. They argued over jewelry still on her wrists. Over her purse. Over phone passwords. Over who had house keys. One son whispered to me asking how fast death certificates come out. His mother had been dead twenty minutes. Security got called because shouting spread into the hallway. Eventually the funeral home took her body and the family continued outside near the ambulance bay like it was a tailgate argument. People think death changes people. Usually it reveals them. Please write things down while alive. Wishes, names, plans, passwords, authority. Otherwise strangers like me watch your children become wolves beside your bed.\n\n— Erica S.
