Death and I are Work Friends
We don’t, like, hang out
With five generations of funeral service lineage and nearly 20 years logged professionally, people tend to assume that I’m comfortable with Death in most, if not all, circumstances, and in a lot of situations, I’m sure I do better than most. At age 22 when I started, the idea of working so closely with something many people actively avoid was definitely odd, but after only a little while, the apprehensiveness began to disappear. We actually developed a pretty good working relationship, Death and I. I’d talk about it with my family and friends in my leisure time to the extent that now my kids are more at-ease with it than most adults. Sometimes it starts to feel like Death is more a friend than a work acquaintance, almost like a part of the family.
My wife has noted the relationship from the beginning. For most of our marriage, any time we’ve attended a visitation or funeral or memorial service, she’s stepped behind me. “You go first. You know what to do,” she’ll whisper.
The problem is, I don’t. Interacting with Death on the job is one thing, but on the outside it’s a different ballgame altogether — one I’m not very good at playing. Talking, sitting, standing, walking all become a struggle. Nerves and adrenaline and doubt take over and bring with them chaos. Nothing is natural. Nothing. You’d honestly never know that…
