Would You Ask a Lawyer That?

  One of the cool things about my job is always meeting new people.  I meet somebody new practically every day.  Sometimes more than one person, practically everyday!    

  With my young (a lady guessed 17) looks, people are usually drawn to me, interested in how (better yet, why) I do what I do.  Besides the usual questions like,  "How long have you been doing this?"  and  "What made you get in the funeral business?" my favorite question of all is,  "Do you like doing this?"    

  I laugh inside my head every time!  One day, I'm really going to shock someone and say, "No!  I'm forced and I hate it!"  I can't tell you how many times I've been asked that and how many times I've thought about being sarcastic.    

  One day I'll do it and it will be great.  
 
  Oh, the hilarity.

Everybody's Got a Story. This One's Mine.

Three Februarys ago, I started learning what it's like to be on the other side of the casket.

I was nineteen, in my first year of college, and one semester in mortuary school.
I'd bugged him for over a month (I've bugged someone for every job I've ever had!) for an apprenticeship and finally got an invitation to work my first funeral.

I wore one of the only two suits I had.
It was black with purple pinstripes and purple collars and had one of those "false shirts" which I didn't think needed backup with a "real" shirt.
Mistake!

That was the absolute coldest day of my life.
(Since then I've experienced the second coldest day of my life but, that day takes the (frozen) cake.)
I had no coat suitable for a funeral so I went without, telling myself I was "conditioning" in case someone asked, "Aren't you cold?!"

He gave me a tour of his funeral home and taught me the code for the back door.
I sat in his office and read everything on his walls over and over as he sat at his desk and talked on the phone or read the paper or just stared into space.
I would have killed for a nap, I was so bored!
I was wondering if I had it in me to be a funeral director after three hours of mind-blowing self-reflection boredom when Hallelujah! it was finally time to go funeralize!
(My word, not the Urban Dictionary's.)

At the church, I pretty much did nothing.
He said carry flowers, I carried flowers.
He said seat these people, seat them I did.
He said hold this cord and I did.
For the whole funeral.
That elastic cord never left my side!
I was on top of this funeral business!

I froze my nose off at the cemetery.
I was starving to death and mentally exhausted.
I was so glad to finally be "in" and couldn't wait for the next one!

That was the only funeral we ever worked together.
The next week I got a call from the funeral home I work for now and decided I had to take a sure job rather than an occasional experience.
He understood and there were no hard feelings.

I tried to keep in touch with him and keep him up to date on my accomplishments in the funeral world.
At times I wondered if maybe I should have just kept part-timing with him but, since then he's sold his funeral and changing hands mid-stream would have probably been harder.
His health problems started becoming pretty serious and eventually they took over.

He died a few days ago and today was his funeral.
I didn't work his funeral, I only attended.
I'm terribly uncomfortable in situations I don't have defined roles in.
After spending so much time on the working side of the casket it's hard to go back to being on the mourning side.

The funeral was just great.
Great songs, great readings, great eulogies, and a great job by the funeral directors.

I'm sure he'd be happy.

Again, I've got nothing good to say so I'm just gonna blab about my random thoughts.

Tom Bodett, I love his voice.
Everytime I hear radio commercials for Motel 6 I think about that time I was in New Orleans and he called and woke me up at 5:30 in the morning.
"Hi, I'm Tom Bodette.
Ever wake up feeling like running through a field of wildflowers?
......
Me either but, I find it does help to put your feet on the floor first."
If he called and woke me up every morning......

When exactly did people stop wearing big, nice hats to funerals and replace them with designer sunglasses propped up and secured with bobby pins?
I mean, really?
Inside?

Today I have a heavy heart.
I do not mourn as they do but, even funeral directors cry.

Need Some Music?

In the funeral business, we hear the same ol' songs every week.
Beulah Land, Amazing Grace, Go Rest High.
Here's a new song we're predicting will be added to the repertoire.
Perry- If I Die Young

$$$

I could teach that Alanis Morrisette or whatever her name is a few things about irony.
I watch Food Network while walking on the treadmill.
I work for the funeral home but I don't like going to funerals and/or visitations.
Let's focus on that one.

Apparently the sad stuff's not so fun when you're not getting paid for it.
I'm an excellent actress.
I can put on a sad face with the best of them.
When it comes to having to attend one of these events off the clock my heart goes into hysterics.
I get all nervous and flippy-outy inside.
I ask myself, "Self, you do this for a living.
What's the big deal?"
I get in line.
I walk to the casket.
I proceed to cringe and look away.
Its like this big humongous dancing pink elephant in the room that I'm trying my hardest to not get stepped on by.

Don't look at the body, don't look at the body.
Relax.
Be cool, you're a pro.

I shake the hands, hug the necks.
I ask, "How are you?" like an idiot when I know how they are.
They say fine but nobody who's at the funeral home is fine unless they're dead or getting paid to be there.
And sometimes the ones getting paid to be there aren't fine.

This stuff is not fun unless there's money involved.

(At first, the title to this post was a complete accident.
I have a squeaky trigger finger and my computer is equipped with a separate "$" key.
After writing this I thought the accidental title fit better than anything I could ever come up with.)