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Death Waits
I work at a funeral home. It can be sad, but I find it more rewarding than anything else. It’s a privilege to be able to serve your fellow men and women in their deepest time of need.
Usually, the funerals aren’t so bad. Someone’s 90-year-old mother finally succumbed to time’s suffocating grasp, perhaps. Sad, certainly. But not tragic. The families of those who pass when it feels right often have feelings tinged with relief, or even joy, that their loved one’s suffering has ended.
Today is not one of those funerals. “Tom” was 63. He was a good Christian, good family man, and an all-around nice guy. He was an outdoorsman who was loved by many.
Tom died from a fall off his ladder while hanging Christmas lights, four days after his 63rd birthday.
Death does not care how many hearts you have touched. She does not care whose life you changed, or how much money you donated or squandered. She does not care if you were a great saint or a diabolical sinner.
She simply waits.
Death has a job to do. As unpleasant as her work might be, it serves an important purpose, one that allows the generation and preservation of new life. Without Death, our world would be a hellscape of inescapable agony and despair.
But the alternative being worse does not make the reality any more palatable. It brings the grieving no comfort to be reminded of the necessity of Death. And our tortured contemplation of our own mortality is not soothed by also contemplating how miserable eternal temporal life would be.
No, we all fear Death, be it ours or another’s. We know this is because we fear the unknown, of what really happens after the terminal breath is drawn. But we are also afraid of when it will happen, and of how.
When will we die? What about our parents, our spouse, our best friend? And what will do it? We pray for a peaceful death, but this is a plea, not a guarantee. What do we do when someone dies before we planned in a way we never expected?
Death waits, but not for us. She does not operate on our schedule. She will not wait for you to be able to walk your daughter down the aisle, or for you to tell your husband you love him one last time. Her calendar is hers alone, and it is merciless.
Death is sad when an old man or woman stops fighting the progression of age or disease. That, at least, is somewhat expected. Death is tragic when she steals from us someone who, according to us, still had time. When a child gets cancer, when a car rolls over, when a ladder is too shaky. Then, we curse Death.
But still, she comes.
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A great reminder for us all. No guarantee for tomorrow.
I couldn’t work in a Funeral home. I am glad there are good hearted souls like you who do.
Thank You.
I’ll second these comments and especially emphasize that I too, do not have what it takes to work in a Funeral Home.
Perfect delineation between sad and tragic.
Such a sad story about the gentleman on the ladder.
Thanks for what you do. I have a brother who died at 8 back in the 60s. My mother often spoke highly of people in the funeral home and their care and compassion.
And how can man die better than facing fearful odds
for the ashes of his fathers, and the temple of his gods,
I can’t remember the book exactly, I think it was Flags of Our Fathers, where one of the men owns a funeral home. The son spoke of the very important role that those who work in funeral homes serve in bringing comfort to those who are grieving. I have noted that over the years and have very much appreciated it when I was the recipient of that comfort. I also have experienced those in the business for whom it is just a business and not a calling. I will not go back to those establishments again.
To all of you being appreciative of those who work at funeral homes, thank you. It is wrenching at times, but mostly, I find it enriching. Plus, when I work visitations, I get to see all the babies that the young couples bring. :)
Unfortunately, many funeral homes are corporately owned now. This makes it tougher for them to weed out the bad hires. The funeral business is rough nowadays; nice, family-owned funeral homes are getting harder to come by.
Having experienced two close family members passing this year, I’ve come to appreciate even more those who enter this profession. It has to be a difficult job, being someone who needs to comfort a family in what has to be the most trying time, yet a businessman who must see to it his company stays afloat so he can serve others.
Aaaaaaaaaand HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!
All kidding aside, that was a poignant and interesting post. Thanks
Unless you’re pagan of some sort, this phrasing sounds strange. I’m of Judeo-Christian faith and I believe that God does care how many hearts you’ve changed, and whether you lived a saintly or diabolic life. Death is not a person, metaphysical or not. Death is an event. God is the person, and He doesn’t wait. He’s got a plan and when He calls you home the state of your soul matters.
Other than that, your post is a good reminder of last things. And I can understand how you get satisfaction from your work. Peace.
It’s just a device used to convey a point. Wasn’t meant to be taken literally.
OK.
The husband and I were completely clueless about our local funeral establishment until we lost a son. The funeral director there, a young-ish man, couldn’t have been more comforting and sincere. He walked us through each step of the arrangements when we were often so overwrought. He had definitely found his calling.
We were completely left cold by the woman who sold cemetery plots and headstones, however. She was an older woman and had been in the position for many years. I’m sure she had a heart somewhere, but we had the impression it was just a business transaction for her.
I am so sorry for your loss. And I have gotten the impression that cemeteries can be a little less sensitive than funeral homes. It’s a very different environment; you’re a lot less up-close-and-personal with the families and friends of the deceased, so it is probably easier to lost perspective.
So sorry also for your loss.
One thought on this. If you catch me at my best, I am an angle, If you catch me at my worst, I am a devil. When you are in the compassion and empathy business, it has got to be a heavy burden to always be on. Perhaps this woman would not have been so cold on another day.
Perhaps. We naturally had to buy the cemetery plot immediately after the death. We couldn’t face ordering a headstone until several months later. Maybe she thought we were “over it” by then and didn’t need “tissues and shoulder to cry on” handling anymore.
Just want to add a word of warning. I worked in a hospital with an active ER, and after motor vehicle accidents (MVAs), falling off things, mostly involving ladders, was the second most common accident that brought people there. Be careful people!
Your post reminded me of a John Donne poem:
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
When my 90 year old father’s body awaited cremation at a local place located in the southwest suburban area of Chicago, my son flipped out. He was convinced that the company would foolishly, carelessly intermingle his grandfather’s ashes with those of someone else. I tried to remind him that cremation was his grandfather’s wishes, but nothing calmed him down.
He drove my husband and me to the crematorium at breath taking speeds, convinced that the service would start before we got there. His elders gripped the car seats in fear for our lives. Who was this person now driving along so recklessly, not using turn signals or observing the speed limits?
When we arrived at the crematorium still a good ten minutes late, we were met at the door by the family that ran the place. Their attitude was one of respect, serenity and even diplomacy.
Once we were seated in their lovely viewing area, I explained my son’s concerns for his grandfather’s remains. They said they had only one cremation that day, my dad’s, but even if it had been a busier day, every care was taken to ensure that no one’s ashes were ever mixed up with someone else’s.
They then conducted a brief service, where everyone there could tell a story or two about my dad. My son was too distraught to speak. I mentioned how very often during my childhood my dad had stated that he would consider it a great privilege to die at home, especially given how from March 1944 to August 1945, he assumed that his body parts would be scattered across a field in some distant land. My son emitted a sigh of relief at these words. The director of the place then read a brief statement my dad had written out to be used at this service.
I came away from the whole experience with a deep sense of respect and gratitude for those who have made death and consoling its victim’s families their life’s mission. Joe Pas, your profession has many unsung gracious and intelligent souls doing a job most of us wouldn’t consider doing because of its difficulties. I sincerely thank you.
My daughter is a funeral director. Just the other day, I was telling her how important I thought her job was. She works for a family funeral home and does a little bit of everything: embalming, cremating, selling coffins, consoling survivors, and so on.
I bet that those in the funeral business never doubt the significance of their jobs. They perform a job that not everyone can do, but surely everyone knows how important that job is.
Catholics are called upon to spend time contemplating the four last things: Death, Judgment, Heaven or Hell. Not things we wish to dwell upon, but essential to salvation. We are also told to pray that we will not suffer a sudden and unprovided death, which means we ask for the time and grace to find the sins in our lives, to seek mercy, to hold fast to faith in the Lord and His Cross. It doubtless will seem odd in this rushing and modern world, but the Church teaches that the worst death is sudden. I know many people who hope to die suddenly and without pain or prior knowledge, but this is a curse for it not only prevents us from healing the wounds we’ve caused to others and to forgive those who have hurt us. For us hope is in the resurrection. Worldly hope is all in vain.
Oh. Why isn’t this on the Main Feed? 32 Likes is a lot of likes.
I do agree that having a peaceful death is something to value. Who would want to die in a combat zone or in a gang altercation inside an urban jungle?
Those of us who have literally died and then come back, after a serious medical trauma, will state that regardless of dogmatic teachings, a person who dies suddenly is always met by The Compassionate Force or else a relative or close friend.
Just as a person who dies during a long lingering illness.
This experience also seems to have revealed itself to many people who’re at the bedsides of friends or relatives during a death vigil and are able to witness this. Often in the days leading up to the passing, the sick person begins talking to those they have loved who have passed on before them, with such remarks, “But I thought I’d never see you again.” Or the opposite, “I’ve been waiting to see you again. And now here you are.” This despite being in a semi comatose state and unresponsive to living people.
We also, believe it or not, get to continue to gain insights into the wrongs we have done after our deaths. Amends can be made either here on earth while we are alive, or afterwards. Just as some people who’ re very much alive contribute to the healing of people while they sleep, despite whether the people being healed are living in the future, in the present or in the past.