If the cost of living is high, the price to be paid after death is a killer. ELAINE KING reports on the financial side of loss.
BURYING a loved one is upsetting enough, but when hundreds of thousands of dollars follow that person into the grave the experience can be devastating.
And the bills only begin with the funeral. With land so expensive in Hong Kong, the rental nightmare that dogs the life of any long-term resident continues long after he has left this mortal coil. Even after burial, inflation ensures the cost of the plot continues to rise. And to add insult to injury, the scarcity of land means that however much a family is prepared to pay, there are no guarantees family members will be buried side by side. The only way to ensure you spend eternity with your nearest and dearest is to arrange for burial over the border.
It is a scenario with which senior funeral negotiator and assistant to the managing director of the Hong Kong Funeral Home, Robert Chan, seems to have endless sympathy. Broach the subject and his face crumples, his eyes fill with unshed tears, his whole demeanour droops. Dressed in a sombre suit, he seems so genuinely concerned it is hard to believe his sympathy is merely professional.
The only giveaway is the little pink form at his fingertips. It is what gets ticked off on this piece of paper - from flowers to professional mourners - that has the potential to decimate a bank balance. 'It costs a lot of money to do a funeral properly, a lot of money for a Chinese family who earn a middle income or less. It's very hard indeed for families who have not made preparations.' Mr Chan sighs. Then he seems to realise this meeting is not with a weeping relative and instantly snaps out of his misery. He leans forward conspiratorially: 'It's a good thing most of our funerals are not for gweilos. They don't care what happens to their bodies and spend the minimum on funerals. If this company relied on gweilo business we would go bankrupt.' He chuckles, fully restored to good spirits.
The Hong Kong Funeral Home, in Quarry Bay, is easy to spot because of all the wreaths and flower arrangements laid out on the pavements. Step into the reception area and there is nothing funereal about the place. It is rather like a factory where the product is processed as quickly as possible. A large chalkboard hangs behind the receptionist announcing the day's proceedings - which occupant is in what reposing room, and whose funeral is taking place in which hall. A loudspeaker chatters away. Green government-issue chairs and cheap mosaic floors add to the institutional atmosphere.