Once again, I have posted a blog that really isn't a blog in the traditional sense, but a story. It's a true story and one that inspired me, so I wrote it. This is not an update that so many are searching for and it pertains to the mortuary and death, so be warned that it is not an upbeat post.
Death, no matter how you look at it, changes lives. Our relationships in this world are what gives us meaning and when those relationships are severed, whether with warning or not, takes its affects. Even the elderly or sick, who we expect to pass away, leaves a loss in our lives. We sometimes have the tendency to believe that we are immortal and will do whatever it takes to extend life. The biggest challenge we face is accepting the death of those we have shared this earthly experience with, but what happens when the life is taken too young.
The mortuary business is an unforgiving one. You do not and cannot pick the hours, you have no say in the deceased, and you cannot predict your reactions to the death, no matter how many times you believe you have experienced it. But, that is the nature of the profession, unpredictable and cold.
Children are the ones that stay with you the most, but unfortunately, as with any experience in life, you become numb to its affects with time. ‘A child just came in,’ is the comment heard more often than you would like, but a moment later the thought of a life taken so soon is washed away with the mundane and banal events of the day. Superficially we sweep the complicated thoughts away to be filled with glib ones, simply to survive. But what else can we do?
‘Does this affect my life?’ is the subconscious thought that runs through the catacombs of the unsolicited parts of our mind. The answer, most times is no. So we don’t let it affect us. We can’t allow it to affect us and we simply move on and this becomes the routine. However, the unpredictable is bound to happen.
The call seemed like so many others that have come in. A ring of the phone breaks the routine and a simple answer starts the habitual.
“Mortuary,” is the answer.
“Yes, I need to speak with someone who can help me. My son has passed away this morning.” Is the voice of a taciturn father making a call no ones deserves.
“Yes of course.” States the voice from the mortuary.
An hour later a man in his thirties wanders down a long corridor decorated with the portraits of past generations of morticians who paved the way of a business few can grasp. In his arms is a lifeless child wrapped gently in a blanket that beckons of childhood, Winnie the Pooh peering from the material hanging loosely from his arms. If someone didn’t know any better they would believe a child has fallen asleep and a compassionate father is carrying him to his resting spot. In fact this is the scene, however, the resting period is longer than an afternoon nap.
The reluctant employee greets the father just outside the hall that has opened up to a grand room handsomely decorated. The room is welcoming but the vastness of it swallows up any hope of a homely atmosphere.
“Hi, is this Riley?” the employee asks, a stupid question but one that breaks the awkwardness of the moment.
“Yes,” states the father who lovingly looks down at the peaceful child.
“Okay, follow me and we can set him down.”
The father follows the employee to the back room that is warmly lit with decor mirrored like that of any living room expect for the gurney placed precariously in the middle. A blanket laid neatly over it waiting for the child.
“Are we not placing him in the embalming room?” asks the father.
“No, I thought this would be better for Riley until he is ready to be embalmed.”
The father gives no response, but his gratefulness is evident in his eyes. He slowly and soothingly sets his lifeless child down on the gurney. Straightening Riley’s blanket for the last time as he tucks his child in. The ceremony is undecorated but one that brings deep meaning to the life of a father. The employee caught in the moment doesn’t realize that she is staring. Finally, aware of her intrusion she awakens herself enough to stand back and give this father and child their space.
The father looks down at his child. A child that he has raised for four years. A child that has now departed this earthly state and one that he will never have the privilege to play catch with or teach how to drive, see get married, or experience grand children with.
The father reaches down and grabs hold of Riley’s hand, cupping it in his. He leans down and pulls Riley’s hand to his cheek and whispers “we love you Riley, rest well,” speaking not only for himself. The father continues to stare at his child at what seems like an hour. At last, in a soft voice he utters words almost unheard…‘we will see you soon’ he finally whispers. No doubt words that are only meant for him and his son, words that don’t need to be said out loud but saying them a loud validates them and makes the moment real. For pain is only a flash and lifes even shorter and without validation what do we have but imagination.
He lingers in this moment, Riley’s hand still on his cheek. His thoughts are unknown but a guess could be ventured into his pain. For four years this child has suffered from sickness and this is his rest. The father is calm and at peace. The pain is still evident in his eyes and face, but a comfort surrounds this father that would befuddle anyone looking onto the scene. He has prepared himself for this instant and is blessed with the character that makes God proud to be a creator of man and in particular this man.
The employee is still reluctantly eves dropping on the interaction and is overcome with grief. The feelings are overpowering and the tears come without warning and no amount of effort can stop them.
This is the unpredictability of the work. The employee has witnessed numerous and regrettable interactions between a parent and their deceased child, but this particular interaction in this particular moment touches something deep within her. The tears streaming freely at this point simply because fighting them is of no use. The employee reflects on her own life and reaffirms how precious life really is. Children can be the bane of your existence, but they can also breath life so great that joy overflows your heart. No doubt this is not about the employee, but the simple fact that she is able to peer on this scene has changed her forever.
The father breaks his stare and gently places his child’s hand down and covers it with his blanket. He gives one last look making sure Riley looks comfortable, because even in death a child is still your child. He turns and looks to the employee whose tears are evident down her cheek. Barely able to speak the employee tells the father, “we will take good care of him.” A standard answer but one that is stated with great meaning.
“Thank you,” the father replies and looks at his feet as he exits the room, not daring to look back. The employee follows and they walk side-by-side as she escorts the father through the long corridor this time empty handed. They walk slowly to the door both silent in their own thoughts. Reaching the door the father nods to the employee but still no words are said. He opens the door and steps out silently. The employee watches through the fogged windows as he reaches his car. He hesitates before getting in and looks around as if he is trying to remember and take in this day, he wants to remember his son, even on the day of his death.
The employee still watching through the glass is abruptly interrupted by the ring of a phone. For a moment the silence was celestial but the unforgiving business is calling and there is no time for revelry.
“Mortuary,” is the answer.
“Yes, I need to speak with someone who can help me…”
