Funeral Giggles

You know the feeling. It starts out as a slight snicker. Something funny happened. Somebody said something or did something---intentionally funny or not--- and all of a sudden you can't stop laughing. You replay the scene over and over in your mind and it gets more funny each time. It happens at the most inconvenient times. Usually at church. Usually during a prayer.
     You know the people you can't look at... they'll just make it worse. You bite your lip. You think of puppies abandoned by the roadside. Something, Anything, to make it stop. As soon as you think it's gone. It's not. Your eyes burn hot with tears. You keep laughing that deep, breathless, silent laugh, trying with all your might not to squeak or gasp or snort.

It's really bad when you get the giggles at church. Trust me, it's even worse at a funeral.

     Fortunately, we funeral personnel are usually tucked away out of sight during a service and don't often get caught. There have been times when I have had to step outside to regain my composure after seeing an especially amusing outfit or hearing especially amusing conversations. Sometimes funny things happen at funerals and sometimes everyone laughs. Sometimes, however, funny things happen and nobody laughs at all--which typically makes us laugh even more. There are also times when situations are SO somber that one little funny thing can initiate a serious case of the funeral giggles.
    One particular incident comes to mind: 
     
     It was a stormy day and we had an afternoon funeral. The deceased was relatively young, and we knew to expect a large crowd for the service. The church filled up and as the service started, latecomers gathered in the small narthex. One of my coworkers started to duck out to make a telephone call. He meandered his way through the crowd with ease and quietly slipped out the door. The wind outside, however, caught him off guard. The door closed behind him too quickly and trapped part of his coat tail as it shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of his coat tail as he tugged on it from the other side of the door. After a few good pulls, he finally freed it from the grip of the door, but it was too late: I had the funeral giggles. I was cornered in the narthex by the overflowing congregation and did my best to not make eye contact with anyone. As I stared at the floral carpet and bit my lip, all I could think about was my coworker as he stood outside in the storm with his coat tail stuck in the door. It didn't help that another coworker had seen the same thing and was across the little room fighting my same battle with the giggles. I knew that in any other situation, it would not be as funny, but in that moment, it was so difficult to contain laughter. 

    Situations like these happen on a weekly basis and I'll admit it does add a certain amount of emotional relief from otherwise depressing occasions. I've always had a healthy sense of humor and am notorious for causing funeral giggles among my coworkers. We love to recount stories and tease each other about things after-the-fact. I am learning the importance of not taking myself too seriously, and when something funny happens at work, we just roll our eyes and smile with knowing eyes. Full blown funeral giggles among the staff, however, make for potentially awkward situations with funeral-goers. We all have our own way of quickly shifting back into 'funeral mode' on a dime, but I have a feeling that I'll have some pretty awesome stories of funeral giggles for years to come.

When Funerals aren't As Beautiful

They say there are two sides to every coin. Funerals are no exception. As I wrote in my last post, sometimes funerals are beautiful; they are moments suspended in time, complete with the idyllic blue sky and the telling of stories of a life well-lived over a gentle breeze. 
    And sometimes they aren't as beautiful. Sometimes they are just plain hard. Funerals are hard because pain is hard. And death is fraught with pain. Mothers, Fathers, Children, Loved Ones. Gone from this world in an instant because death does not discriminate.    Death has a way of bringing out our deepest fears and strongest emotions. It can bring us to our knees or it can send fists swinging. Family ties can be strengthened or severed. Communities can be shaken to their core. Mass fatalities, natural disasters, terrorism. Accidents. Illness. Murder. All of it bringing us face-to-face with our mortality. The funeral itself can seem other-worldly, detached, rote. The flowers and the songs and the shiny cars pale in comparison to the heart-wrenching sobs of a young mother over her child. 
    Somehow, amidst the pain, amidst the tears, we find hope. We find it among the hugs of close friends and near strangers, we find it in the quiet moments spent at the cemetery, right after everyone leaves. Hands are placed on the casket, a final gesture of remembrance. A final good-bye. Hope is there as we drive away from the grave, it follows us home, it sits by us in our sleep and it wakes up with us, always there, always waiting for us to turn around and find it in the stillness. Hope remains alive as waves of grief threaten to overtake us in the days and weeks and years to come. Hope carries us through.
    This world will bring pain. This world will bring trouble. This world will bring death. But I for one have hope in a Savior who has conquered this world.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." -John 16:33 (NIV)

When Funerals are Beautiful

Death is not usually thought of as beautiful. There isn't much about it that is beautiful or pretty or even pleasant. There is, however, beauty in the remembering, in the time taken to pause and reflect, in the care shown by others. There is also a certain beauty that comes only with age. A dignity. A presence.
     There are few things more beautiful than a group of white-haired Southern belles giggling like schoolchildren. Their steps may not be as spry nor as smooth as they once were, but they come bumbling up the walkway nonetheless. Their hands may be gnarled and shaky, but their dress and seasoned voices are, in a word, elegant. Though they are in mourning of a dear friend, they still know what to hold onto in this life. They shush each other as they clamor up the church steps. My imagination hopes they are recounting a scandalous story of days gone by, of young love and late nights. Then again, perhaps it is a story of the children, saying things that only children do. The children, after the nights of rocking them to sleep, of worrying over them and bathing them and gently smoothing their hair. The children who would grow up only to refuse to eat their broccoli and then get all those speeding tickets. The children who are gathered here today too, sitting in the front pew. The ones who have children of their own now, who might be experiencing this thing called death for the first time. The ones who came here to remember and to honor the beauty in the life that was lived.
    There aren't many things about death that are beautiful, but it is my job as a funeral professional to make more of them come into being. Preparing the body, washing hair, buttoning shirts, tying ties, painting nails, positioning in the casket.... All of it to be sure the good memories are talked about, laughed about, and held onto for just a little while longer.

     So we set out the flowers and turn on the lights and make sure the Kleenex's are within arm's reach. We smooth the fabric in the casket and speak gently as much as we can. We print out the programs and, if you're lucky, we might even wash the cars. We bow our heads when you bow yours. As you open your hymnal to "How Great Thou Art," we stand in the back and sing along because we know it by heart. And it is beautiful.

Are You Smarter than a Funeral Director?

I'm in the throes of preparing for my National Board Examinations in funeral directing and embalming, which I will be taking in less than a month (eeek!). I thought I would invite you along on the journey by offering you the opportunity to take a short quiz of your very own. Below, you will find 10 questions covering a variety of topics in funeral service. Take the quiz to see if you have what it takes to be a funeral director. If you're really brave, post your own answers in the comment section. The answer key has been inserted at the bottom so you can compare your answers with mine.

1) The term for placing cremated remains into a final container is:
     A. Entombment
     B. Interment
     C. Inurnment
     D. Cremains interment

2) It is an FTC requirement that which of the following must be offered to customers for their information and retention?
     A. Casket Price List
     B. Outer Burial Container Price List
     C. General Price List
     D. All of the above

3) According to OSHA, the formaldehyde standard for short term exposure is:
     A. 0.5 ppm/8 hours
     B. 2 ppm/15 minutes
     C. 0.75 ppm/2 hours
     D. 0.75 ppm/30 minutes

4) Embalming is usually not practiced by members of which religious tradition:
     A. Mormon
     B. Jewish Orthodox
     C. Catholic
     D. non-liturgical Protestant

5) Statement of Death by Funeral Director form:
    A. SSA-8
    B. Form 40-1330
    C. DD-214
    D. SSA-721

6) Which of the following is one of the first organs to decompose?
     A. Lining of the trachea
     B. Mesentery
     C. Nonpregnant uterus
     D. Urinary bladder

7) In a Roman Catholic Funeral Mass, the casket of a lay-person is traditionally placed:
    A. Horizontally in front of the altar
    B. With the foot end towards the altar
    C. With the head end towards the altar
    D. None of the above

8) The path of one drop of blood travelling away from the heart to the right forearm:
     I. axillary artery
     II. brachiocephalic artery
     III. brachial artery
     IV. subclavian artery

     A. I, II, IV, III
     B. III, II, I, IV
     C. III, IV, I, II
     D. II, IV, I, III

9) Which of the following is a postmortem physical change?
     A. livor mortis
     B. postmortem caloricity
     C. rigor mortis
     D. postmortem stain

10) Sorbitol is an example of a:
     A. Disinfectant
     B. Buffer
     C. Humectant
     D. Solvent

Ok, folks, here are the answers:

1. C-Inurnment

2. C-General Price List

3. B-2ppm/15 minutes

4. B-Jewish Orthodox

5. D-SSA-721

6. A-lining of the trachea

7. B-with the foot end towards the altar

8. D-brachiocephalic, subclavian, axillary, brachial

9. A-livor mortis (intravascular discoloration)

10. C-Humectant

I've had complaints that the quiz was too difficult, and to be honest, I'm not sure the majority of morticians could get all these questions right. These few questions, however, are remarkably representative of the kinds of things asked on my upcoming licensure exams. I hope it at least gives you a glimpse into the wide, wide range of topics and issues involved in funeral service. Next time you see one of us mortician types standing around at a funeral or a graveside, remember what all we've done to get to that point. As always, if you would like more information about anything you see here, please feel free to ask.

Funeral Speak: Personalization

Pervasive in the funeral industry is a vocabulary unique to the trade. There are business words, buzzwords, embalming words, merchandising words, cemetery words, etc. in which the general public is not well versed.  To present you with a list of such words would be oh so boring and uninformative, so I plan to cover one on this blog every once in a while.

Today's word is  personalization.
     In layman's terms, personalization is a noun meaning "individualization" or "uniqueness." Turns out, it means the same thing in the funeral world, but with a bit of a twist. To personalize a funeral is to plan it so that it honors an individual in a special way. Having said that, it is important to note the broad spectrum of personalization.... There may be a favorite song to be sung or a favorite dress to be worn. There may be pictures to display or a flag to be folded or refreshments to be served. There may even be something outlandish such as we see on television shows like TLC's "Best Funeral Ever," where anything goes.... from professional mourners to a Christmas sleigh used for transporting a casket.
     It is our job as funeral directors to oversee the process and attend to details that will make the 'personalized' funeral a (favorably) memorable experience. Sometimes it takes considerable creativity to pull everything off without a hitch. Sometimes it takes last-minute scrambling to deal with hiccups in the plan. Whatever it takes, personalization can be a great thing. In fact, it is my belief that personalized funerals/caskets/displays/urns/etc. are the wave of the future for the funeral industry. The deathcare business as many of us think of it is a product of American culture, with all of its materialism and individualism thrown in for better or worse. Personalized touches are therefore becoming increasingly invaluable to the industry, and I think it is important to incorporate them in unique ways which serve to honor the life lived.
     One shining example of a personalized funeral comes from a service that is close to my heart. My maternal grandfather passed away a year ago today, and his funeral stands as one of the most unique services I have attended to date. You see, my grandpa, Pop, was a fireman.

He was a pillar in the community and he was known by everyone as the "old man." He was the best BBQ cook around and he would give you the shirt off his back plus $100 to get you where you were going. He loved serving people and many of those people in the community banded together to honor him at his funeral.

His casket was transported to the church on the back of a firetruck followed by even more firetrucks from many neighboring counties. The funeral procession traveled down a main highway, where policemen and other emergency responders lined the road. At the graveside, there was a 'last-call' over the radio.... and sitting there, even in the sweltering May heat, I will always remember the warmth I felt from knowing he was laid to rest well. The community he loved and the family he loved came together to make his funeral one to remember. I very much look forward to being a part of other such services as I work in this field.

Thinking of Pop today, and remembering him well.....

                                     

   

A Funeral Director Goes to Disney World

As far as I am aware, there has never been a funeral at Disney World. I could be wrong, but I don't think it has happened yet.
     However, there are plenty of people out there who have been both to funerals and to Disney World. There is a slightly smaller group of people who work in the funeral profession and who have been to Disney World. I am one of these people. In the midst of walking the crowded streets of Disney World last week, I couldn't get funerals off my mind. Granted, there are marked differences between the two:

Disney World is loud. Funerals, typically, are not. 

Funerals are sad. Disney World, typically, is not.

Disney World has cotton candy. Funerals, typically, do not. (Although I have served banana popsicles at a funeral).

You get the picture. 

The similarities, however, are a bit more interesting.

Hurry Up and Wait.

     Disney World, and most theme parks for that matter, are known for long lines and lots of waiting around. Turns out, so are visitations and funerals. People who attend visitations and funerals know this. And I know this because I see another side of the story.....we funeral professionals wait around a lot. We wait around on people to show up, and on paperwork to come in, and on a multitude of other things that simply have to be waited on by someone. Our unwritten motto is, "Hurry up and wait." We rush to remove a body. Then we wait while the family decides what to do. We start the embalming process. Then we wait to let it all sink in. We rush, rush, rush to get to a church on time with all the right things. And then we wait. Until it's time to rush, rush, rush to get all the things to the cemetery, where we'll just wait again. There seems to be lots of people watching and quite a bit of small talk in both situations. The only difference I can find is that waiting at Disney World usually leads to a fun roller coaster. Funerals, not so much.

Weather Dependent

     Rain, snow, sleet, shine. Weather is so uncontrollable. Ever been to a rainy funeral? What about to a rainy day at Disney World? They are both pretty bad. Have any sunburns that you lived to tell about? Yeah, those happen at gravesides too. Splash Mountain is not so fun in chilly temperatures. Neither is working in the dark twilight of a cold winter's night to get a grave filled after a late funeral. Still, I'd rather have bad weather at a funeral than at Disney World. Just saying.

Meltdowns

     One stroll around Magic Kingdom and you're guaranteed to hear some children crying. Meltdowns happen. I get it. Trust me, I get it. People cry all the time at funerals. The tears are nothing to be ashamed of in either case, but I find funeral tears slightly more tolerable than Disney World tears.

Transportation

     There are lots of moving parts at Disney World. So it goes for funerals. I lost count of how many buses and ferry-boats and mono-rails I boarded over the course of the short vacation. Each one was headed somewhere I needed to go and would arrive there within a fairly reasonable amount of time. It makes one marvel at the amounts of energy expended and consumed in that small corner of the world. It feels the same way at funerals sometimes. Hearses, family cars, flower vans, lead cars, clergy cars, dump trucks, vault trucks, church trucks, removal cots, etc. The funeral business has a lot of vehicles, each with a very specific job, and usually on a very specific schedule. Disney Parade.......Funeral Procession. Think about it.

Behind the Scenes

    This one is worth saying again: there are lots of moving parts at Disney World. I had on adult eyes while visiting the parks this time, and as I watched the cast workers, I caught a glimpse of all the little details that make Disney World "magical." Funerals are kind of the same way. There is a ton of behind the scenes work that goes into a funeral. Many people have no idea exactly how many things must be taken care of in short windows of time to get a funeral off without a hitch. While the funeral business hasn't integrated towels folded into animal shapes or standard issue mouse ears for the average funeral goer, I do have a few casket-shaped novelties like keychains and notepads. Not as cool as Mickey Mouse. But still. 

Until next time,

Women of the Funeral Home

I'm an educated young woman working in a small, Southern funeral home.

Think about it for a minute. It's a statement that holds so much more than you know.

In the short time I've been here, I've heard a lot--platitudes, playful banter, downright perversion. I get it. I'm probably an unexpected sight. In fact, my young colleague and I have been referred to as 'novelties.' It sometimes seems that I don't fit in among the gray-haired men and red-dirt covered gravediggers. I try to look the part, wearing conservative clothing and composing my words and demeanor with maturity and sincerity. Steps and movements have become more measured and reserved. I only hope to appear graceful, which, if you know me, is easier said than done for my tomboy self.

After funerals I sometimes hear,

"I'm so glad there are young people like you interested in doing things like this!" 

or, "So nice to see a pretty face around here!"

     Still, there are days when compliments barely outweigh the negativity. Issues directly linked to my gender and perceived aptitude are brought up and challenged daily. When I think of the societal implications of my chosen career, I just don't think women should feel so out of place or uncomfortable in the funeral business. After all, death does not discriminate, and, historically speaking at least, women have fulfilled care-taking and event planning roles quite well. BUT there's always a little old lady saying,

"Those men need to be out there washing those cars!"  
or, "How do you expect to raise a family with a job like this?"

I usually just smile and change the subject. I'll cross that bridge when I get there. And I'll wash all the cars along the way.

     I do more than answer phones and type obituaries. I do it all, just like my male counterparts. Except, unlike them,

I know what it feels like to be looked down upon. 
I know what it feels like to be stared up and down. 
I know what it feels like to be blatantly ignored.

     I also, however, know what it feels like to be welcomed into a home with a,

"Come on in, honey! Let me show you the clothes we picked out for mama. Oh, and here's some of her lipstick. What do you think?," followed by a soft touch of a hand on mine and a gentle whisper, "...I know you will take good care of her." 

     I've had to learn when to take a step back and let a man handle things. And they've had to learn when to step down and let one of us women come in with a little bit of a softer touch. It may also be that men (and women) feel more at ease to show emotion or even *gasp* cry in front of a female funeral director as opposed to a male. And let's not even get started on whole 'male ego'/'won't stop to ask for directions' thing...
     It's not uncharted territory, and luckily for me, my fierce sense of independence kicks in and I am thankful to have been surrounded by strong women throughout my life--women who have taught me to work hard and to use my voice and to stand up for what is right; they have shown me that women are intelligent and important and influential and that, as a woman and as a child of God, I matter. I believe I have unique gifts that rival many men's abilities to remain sympathetic and engaged with a mourning family while also planning and organizing the details of a funeral. Perhaps you agree with me or perhaps you don't. All I know is that each day brings new stories and new challenges and new realizations. I hope to be able to look back on this season of growth with a spirit of appreciation. Until then, from me to other women striving for success in traditionally male dominated fields,

Putting the 'Fun' in Funerals

When people find out I'm training to be a funeral director, one of the more common questions I get asked is "Aren't you depressed all the time?"

The answer is: "No." (Imagine me rolling my eyes).
   
     While I may be around death and bodies and people crying all the time, and while I may have attended close to 100 funerals this past year, my job is anything but depressing. It can be chaotic, stressful, and demanding, but it can also be really fun and challenging. Sometimes it is even slow and boring and we all get to go home early, which is fun too.
     Creativity is key. What would you do if you were presented with a family who wants Dale Earnhardt embroidered on the inside of the casket panel? What about with a family who expects an open casket for a person who was decapitated? How do you gently tell a grieving widower that his wife's bra is too big? (Disclaimer: I can answer all of those questions, though not from true personal experience. Yet.).
     I have some really great co-workers and we are able to keep the atmosphere pretty light and productive. The truth is that our wheels are always turning and our minds are going so many different directions in a given moment that we don't have time or energy to be depressed about death. Here's a snapshot:

Now multiply that by 4 or 5 deaths/week (or 16 if it was the week before Christmas)... and that's what funeral directing is like.

(Disclaimer: we always forget at least one thing.)

     There are moments when I question my sanity. Like when I'm standing out at a graveside in a torrential downpour or sweltering heat. Or when I'm staying late to suture incisions in a corpse after a difficult embalming. Or when I'm on hold with an insurance company. Again.

     At the end of the day, we all know that funerals are for the living. As funeral directors, we do what we can to make the process run as smoothly as possible and we cross our fingers that everyone is satisfied with the results of our labors. This is a service industry and it always will be, and I think it's important to be able to have a little fun along the way. I can assure you we all have a healthy respect for the job we do and a distinct sense of reverence for the dead. Our serious moments just need to be tempered by humor every once in a while. It really is gratifying when you sit back and let it all unfold. Maybe somebody cracks a joke at a funeral or tells a funny story to make everyone laugh. Maybe you didn't put up a tent at the cemetery because, "Mama always liked to see the blue sky..." and that was the one day in the week it wasn't forecasted to rain. Maybe the music was just the right volume or the lipstick was just the right shade. On those days, I can walk away knowing I've done my job well. And who doesn't like that feeling?

Photo credit: http://www.digdang.com/image/just_buried/5135/

Sticking Out Like a Sore Thumb

Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to attend a funeral at an African American church. I did this as part of a school project that required us to attend a funeral "outside of our comfort zone." I also did this out of sheer curiosity because, while it may not be something we really think about or draw attention to, churches and funeral homes are still very segregated. Knowing this, I called the funeral home handling the service beforehand to be sure my presence would be alright with the family and I proceeded to make my way to the church later in the afternoon. I nervously parked my car in the overcrowded lot and got out. Step one: complete.

As I walked towards the sanctuary, I felt as if I was entering a foreign country without guarantee of asylum. It wasn't that I was afraid, necessarily. It was more of the fact that I felt very out of place. I was attending the funeral of a complete stranger and I had NO idea what to expect. I was also the only white person in sight. And I am a very white person at that. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I kept my sunglasses on until the last possible moment before I slid into a pew between two older women. I tried to maintain a semblance of confidence as I busied myself with adjusting my dress and slipping my cell-phone into my bag. The lady next to me leaned over and asked if I wanted to view the body. As she gestured towards the open casket at the front of the sanctuary I quietly demurred, preferring her to assume I was not comfortable with corpses instead of letting on that, no, in fact, I deal with bodies and funerals on a daily basis, but I was petrified to walk all the way to the front of the room full of peering strangers.

The service began. A booming voice proclaimed, "All rise!" A large choir entered the loft behind the pulpit, the preachers entered the sanctuary, and the funeral directors (dressed in matching suits) gathered the family in the back of the church. Over whispers and shuffling feet and a constant, low hum of the organ, a young pastor quoted scripture as he walked down the aisle. A group of about 20 women, all dressed in white, appeared behind him. They were all older and they were altogether beautiful. The women were followed by a group of about 20 men, all wearing black. I deduced they must be elders of the church as they took their seats at the front. The large family was led to view the body in the casket and one by one, they took their seats as well. As the organ music kept going, I slowly became aware of how long we had been standing. In a comforting, rhythmic voice, the pastor continued quoting scripture. Finally, the family was seated. As I sat back down on the pew, I felt more at ease.

The choir opened with a song and I watched as a few people stood and waved their hands along with the music. Stories were told, laughter was shared, tears were shed. Family, friends, and church members eulogized their loved one. There was another song, one that drew more of a crowd of people leaping to their feet, worshiping the Lord who had called one of His own home to rest from her labors. I found myself getting lost in the moment. I clapped along with the women beside me, proud to share in their joy and to know that even if we had little else in common, we worshiped the same God.

The young preacher got up again and spoke of how he could see the grief of the family for a beloved grandmother, mother, sister, and friend, but that he grieved for a different woman. He grieved for a woman he didn't get the chance to really know. She had suffered from dementia since he had been called to the church a few years ago and he only knew this matriarch through the stories of her younger days. He spoke of her light and her faith and her unwavering trust that was passed along to her daughters, just like that of Naomi and Ruth. He spoke of God as her Keeper. He spoke and then he YELLED. There was some loud rejoicing and some loud praising and some loud singing, and while it was a little overwhelming for my Presbyterian eyes and ears, there is no doubt the Spirit was in that place. I swayed and smiled and clapped along until---close to two hours later--- it was time to go. The funeral directors came and closed the casket as the family gathered 'round. They had to kind of push their way out of the crowd in a final 'letting go.' The women in white came forward, each taking a flower or arrangement with them on their way out of the church. The group of men and the family also exited, singing as they walked.

I dodged a few sideways glances as I exited the building, but I left that place knowing a woman I hadn't known before. I knew her in the way the young pastor did, from the stories. It is not everyday that I see families and congregations come together for a joyful, pulsing celebration such as that. It was an honor to share in the service of such a valiant and beloved woman. And while it did take a few hours for my ears to stop ringing, I know that, given the chance, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Even if I stick out like a sore thumb.

Prepositions

I'm sitting in the same classroom for the 4th hour in a row. On one side of me, there are two caskets (empty, I promise), on the other, there are twenty classmates, all of various ages and backgrounds. The instructors ramble a bit, confusing words like 'generic' with 'genetic,' 'presents' with 'presence,' and 'elections' with 'electrons.' Nobody else seems to notice. Oh well.

Somewhere between the chemistry lesson and the three-thousandth question about whether or not we have to  know ALL the bones in the body, words begin to pop out at me. The words are simple, prepositions actually: by, with, for...

We have moved on to the 'Funeral Services' portion of the school day and are watching a PBS Frontline documentary called The Undertaking. (<-- VERY highly recommended).

....By the living
....For the living
....With the living

It strikes me as it has done before-- funerals in the modern sense mean different things to different people, but Thomas Lynch's words start to work in my finite brain, "we deal with death by dealing with the dead..."

Our death traditions are just that- traditions- just like our marriage traditions, birth traditions, and holiday traditions. They serve a purpose, but we have to remember they are not immune to change. The processes of planning, conducting, and attending funerals helps usher us through the beginnings of the grief journey. They give us something to grasp, rules to follow, and roles to play as our little worlds change beyond our comprehension.

We all view and deal with death a little differently, but, in the end, we all must face it.

It never fails that at any funeral I attend, there is a solitary moment in which time seems to stand still. It often happens at the graveside as the pallbearers carry the casket to the grave. Watches tick, birds chirp, cars go by, but the hallowed plot of land on which we place the casket is eerily quiet. We've come as far as we can. Family and friends have eulogized, prayed, sung, cried, rejoiced, remembered and now we stand in reverent awe. The casket is lowered and we reach the end. The body stops moving. We stop carting everything around. We arrange the flowers for the last time. We say a final prayer, maybe sing a final song. Then we leave and the reality of the loss accompanies us as we walk away from the grave.

We continue to lean on the living; hearing words of sympathy, accepting tender embraces, and eating fried chicken to our heart's content. In these moments, we are vulnerable in our humanity. In moments to come, as we look back and remember things about the ones we've had to let go, we seem to be more vulnerable in our spirituality. Through tears and laughter we keep moving until death interrupts again; until our little worlds stand still.

"Most People"

January: the month of doors and gates. Christmas is behind us and most resolutions have come and gone by now. For us college students, January means new classes are started and new friends are made. For me, this month marks the beginning of a final semester at PC.

Among other things going on at this time, such as trying not to freak out about graduation, deciding on plans after college, and adjusting to the fact that most of my friends are now married or soon-to-be so, I am embarking on an adventure this semester called an "internship." I must warn you: this is not going to be your run-of-the-mill experience.

I am interning at a funeral home.

That's right, I'm considering becoming a mortician. I realize that the words "undertaker" and "embalmer" just aren't the kinds of words that pop up among things a parent dreams of for a child. Nevertheless, I am investigating the field.

I have spent a few days on the job this month already and I like what I have seen so far. It seems doable to me. Judging by the mixed reactions I get when I tell people of my current career goal, most people are just not cut out for this kind of thing. My answer to that: I am not "most people."

In four days, I have attended more funerals than "most people" will do in their lifetime and I have already experienced a "diverse clientele."

As the semester continues, I am sure I will have stories to tell and reservations to process, and I would appreciate your thoughts, prayers, and encouragement as I go through this time of discernment.

I will leave you with a final thought, an observation of sorts, that occurred this past week at a funeral I was working. It was a funeral for a young grandmother; a woman who had passed unexpectedly. Some out-of-town relatives arrived early for the combination visitation/service. As the day progressed, the rain began falling harder and harder outside the little country church and as more family and friends arrived, more and more of them went in and out of the doors to smoke their cigarettes. The other funeral home employees and I stood in the vestibule of the church, awaiting the end of the service when we would transport everything to the graveside service.

Between the visitation and the memorial service, one of the out-of-town relatives struck up a conversation with me. She told me about the mess her home was in from recent remodeling projects and how, since her kitchen was being torn out that morning, she didn't know what she was going to cook for dinner in her microwave. She then proceeded to tell me how she had worked hard all her life and how she was doing these remodeling projects as a way to reward herself upon her retirement. She stood there, glanced around at us as we held the memorial bulletins in our hands, and said, "Yes, ma'am, I worked hard all my life. I didn't stand around in a suit all day worrying about which way to hold my hands."

Her words, snide and insensitive, considering the occasion, sparked within me an immediate desire to defend my fellow funeral workers. I chuckled and gently said that I hoped all the projects turned out well. When she turned to re-enter the sanctuary, I thought about what she had said and wondered if "most people" would agree with her sentiment.

I hope to never underestimate the power of maintaining respect and practicing integrity, and even if I don't end up pursuing a career as a funeral director, I will never discount the importance of this profession. It is, in a way, some of the hardest work imaginable and I know now that it is not a decision to be made lightly.

Until next time,
Caroline