Rose Hills Water

This isn't technically shit my mom bought. This is more like shit my mom saved. We just got back from Hawaii. My dad picked us up from LAX in our car. In the back seat was Lucy's suitcase, filled with mini bottles of water. Brad was like, "Harabuji, where did all these bottles of water come from?" My dad was like, "Oh, they're from Rose Hills Cemetery." 

Let me backtrack a little. My grandfather is buried at Forest Lawn Rose Hills in Whittier. My grandmother is buried in Korea. This past year, my dad decided to bring his mother's ashes to LA and bury her in his father's plot at Rose Hills. He made me call the cemetery to find out pricing, and it was pretty gross: "$3000 to bury two bodies in one plot; $850 to open up the plot on a weekday, $1200 on a weekend; $300 for a special urn for the cremains [I HATE THAT WORD]; $200 random fees; $100 to remove the grave marker; $100 to destroy the grave marker" blah blah blah blah blah. You get the picture. I told my dad and he was like, ok. So my grandmother's ashes arrived via Korean Air about a week ago, and my dad brought them to Rose Hills. They opened up the plot on Wednesday. My mom and dad were the only people who could attend the "ceremony" because my sister and I were out of town and my aunts and uncles were all working. But the folks at Forest Lawn had set out a tent and a dozen chairs, each with a miniature bottle of Rose Hills water.

So of course my mom took all the water. They'd paid for it, right? (And it probably cost $20/bottle, SERIOUSLY). Brad thinks this is so morbid of my mom and refuses to touch or taste the water. It's still sitting in the suitcase in our car.