Death is gross. Much like the process of giving birth, there are sights, sounds, and smells that our bodies make, which are not intended for the faint of heart. And much like birth, there is a sweeping sense of relief when the process is over. A new reality has been created, and the former life will never be reclaimed. That’s where I come in.

You look familiar to me when we meet for the first time at the funeral home, and I quickly realize it’s because you look like your mother. I never got to meet her in life, but I picked her up from the hospital and she’s resting safely in my prep room. I greet you with a smile, and say that I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances. As we get further into the arrangements I’m asking you to make permanent decisions with very short notice. Decisions like the last items of clothing she will ever wear. Whether or not her wedding ring should stay with her. Things that cannot be changed next week, or next year. I’m also flooding you with information while you are in a state of shock. I do my best to repeat things two or three times, trying to make deadlines and other important information stick through the fog you are experiencing.

Then there are the things I cannot control, which will still ultimately affect your experience with me. Perhaps your selected minister is out of town, or the cemetery simply isn’t available on the day you’ve already selected in your mind for services. There are disappointments that you rebound from quickly, and others that will be more difficult to overcome. Maybe her death was due to some sort of trauma, and the circumstances around her death will ultimately make her unviewable. This means I have to be the one to tell you that you will not get a chance to say goodbye to her body in person.

After our arrangements are finalized, you leave with a list of items that I need you to review (or collect) and return to me within a specific time frame. This is where my stress truly begins. Your family will definitely turn everything in on time! However there are some that I have to chase, play phone-tag with, basically beg to get items or information to me. And, sometimes they push right up to the deadline or ignore it all together, forcing me into a corner. The most frequent offenders here are obituaries and items for the program. Funeral programs done in-house take relatively little time, however if you’ve selected a special one made by another company there is no going back if a misspelling or inaccurate information is printed. These programs typically arrive hours before the service starts, and there is no way to fix them in time for the service. Similarly with obituaries, if we are past the deadline set by the newspaper, there is nothing I can do to add the name of a grandchild that was accidentally omitted. That sort of thing can cause a family feud that lasts for years.

I also will be hands on with preparing your mother for viewing. The embalming process always starts with a bath. This will both clean and sanitize her. Any medical devices left from her hospital stay will be removed. We will close her eyes and shut her mouth, doing our best to form a natural smile. Then a chemical mixture will be injected through her circulatory system to aid in the preservation of her body. I watch for color changes under her nail beds, her face, and her legs to show me that the chemicals are reaching every part of her body. Once the process is successfully completed, an assistant and I work together to get her dressed. Thankfully the clothing you provided is a little loose, and has long sleeves. Bruising from the IVs the hospital put in her arms can be easily hidden by clothing. The use of cosmetics to hide them is much more difficult, as there is such a large area of skin, and once you start you generally have to cover the whole arm and hand to make skin tones match. I paint her nails as my assistant starts to style her hair (not my strong suit). Final touches include cosmetizing her face and placing the jewelry you provided. Once she is ready we use a body lift to place her in the casket you selected. She is ready.

Within about a week, our time together is at an end. I have completed the funeral arrangements, and sent you on your way with the certified death certificates. We joke as you leave that we both hope it’s a long time until we have to see each other again. Statistically speaking it will be several years before you experience another family death, requiring my services. However, as we are both active members of our community it is much more likely that we will run into each other at the grocery store, or a restaurant, probably some place where you don’t particularly want to be reminded of your mother’s death. I am aware that I may represent memories that you don’t care to revisit, and will follow your lead in these instances. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.

And then you’re out the door, our business completed, and I’m off to hunt down an obituary from one of my other families, the deadline is in 2 hours.