On my grandfather’s death anniversary, I went along with my dad to pay my due respects at his grave–he passed away long before I was born. Treading cautiously across lines of graves, my dad obstructed my next step on an open patch of grass in between two headstones. There, laid his father. In the car, I was explicitly baffled with my dad. Why did he not have a tombstone? Heck, there weren’t even flowers. My dad looked back at me with just as much shock, before he understood my generational confusion. He explained to me that back then, he could not afford the price of their cheapest headstone. I protested.He could’ve planted a simple tree, maintained flowers, simply anything to make this space known. Who knows how many shoes have trampled over that patch of grass, unbeknownst of the soul that rests beneath the soil? 

It was that day that I learned my grandfather did not have a traditional Islamic funeral, either. They were able to hold a respective prayer at the mosque, but the routine funeral activity costs were just too extraordinary to commit too. So they held a silent burial in an empty Muslim cemetery. 

So if healthcare isn’t free, and the cost of dying can be considered an investment, to what extent are our lives simply a means for monetary gain? In life and death, we are still bolted to the ways of capitalism. As of 2024, healthcare costs average out to about $13,500 per person.  With half of our working class struggling to afford their healthcare, and 32% of the population in medical debt–we find ourselves skimping on our wellbeing. Some may worry about ambulance costs while on their last breaths. While others are putting down paychecks for medication necessary for daily function. It is utterly dystopian that our healthcare system has forced people to cut down on necessities for personal wellbeing just to afford health services. Statistics from The Commonwealth Fund observed that nearly two of five working adults delay or skip medical attention or medication to save on the expenses. The people of our country feel pressured, struggling to sustain themselves with food and utility bills atop the additional expense of healthcare. Yet, we are seeing minimal progress in cutting down these numbers. Survey results from Funeralocity show health insurance costs to rise up to 8% in the following year to come, and US spending on healthcare is nearing $5 trillion. Employers must worry about providing, the working class on affordability, and those uninsured face inflating raw prices. Understandably, my dad made the greater financial decision not buying a headstone. Under a capitalistic society, even sentiment is a privilege not all can relish in.

As of late, Americans must continue to skip prescription medication and avoid ambulances in times of emergency and dire need. We must continue to portion out our groceries and utilities alongside our healthcare. It costs less to have your ashes planted for regrowth in the form of a tree, than a traditional funeral. My one wish, if not for the progression of healthcare accessibility, is to hope my parents don’t pass on fretting about the expenses of their death. For the cost of living is vast, and the cost of dying amounts to just about the same.