So, as it were, I have recently undertaken a new position in the grand scheme of time. Call me what you will, as my official title is "removal technician," but this new job has begun to reveal a different perspective in my view of life and death. The work I do is for the living, and to honor the bodies of the souls who no longer live within their human home. I transport the bodies of the deceased, yet I do not seeing it as a job in the "death" industry. To me the "death" industry is more akin to capitalism, to the fear of death, to look young, to take that pill despite the side effects, to live in constant panic of what you do not have. While possibly considered a morbid obsession, there is a part of me that has always been fascinated by death, probably a part that exists within all humans, yet it is just one I have been given the opportunity and willingness to explore.
There is something to be said about my new experience, as I process it, and as it continues to mold and shape my outlook on the value of life and the inevitability of the end of it. It is a wild and solemn and, for me, curiously exciting experience, the process of receiving a death call, of letting myself into the funeral home, picking up the van or Yukon (me looking something like a soccer mom to anyone pulling up next to me, with a very different cargo load in the back), ensuring the mortuary cot and blankets and cover are all in the van and ready to go, and meeting the funeral director who is mentoring me through this process. There is a distinctly unique smell to the back rooms of the funeral home, and I can tell you that working as a nurse and smelling the smells of the sick are not the same as the smell of death. I have seen the inside of the crematorium, the dust that settles over everything near it, felt the heat that still remains days after it has cooled. I have seen more bodies in the last few months than the average American, and I am confident that they are empty shells, with the glow of the soul gone, transformed into wherever our energy goes after this life. That's not to say there is no presence left in the building, but in and of the body itself, there is nothing that has yet made me uneasy, however surreal this has been at times.
As it is for me in nursing, to be able to be allowed into a persons life during their most vulnerable moments and to be given their trust is a truly humbling action, which is an honor to be given. Pulling up to the homes of the families, I have often seen them waiting in the window for us, families in all different stages of the grief process. Their attitudes and expression of emotion varies widely, but the underlying theme so far is one of gratitude extended to us as we ensure that their loved one will be treated with respect and dignity. Some are eager to help, some just want to allow us to take care of it all, some have many questions, some have a lot to say, and some just remain quiet with tears in their eyes. To witness the exchange of emotion between the family members, their support of one another, their goodbyes to the deceased, is to exist right in the dead center of pure, vulnerable, strong and raw love. What a gift it is, to be able to witness and support a persons grief, because isn't grief a window to the story of a persons love?
My encounters with these humans are brief, and I have only been on a handful of calls so far, but the magnitude of what I witness is powerful. It has me reflecting on all of the interactions we have with one another while we are alive. How each one impacts us in some way, shapes our experiences of love, pain, joy, and ourselves. It makes me realize my own mortality, and through that I am praying for the ability to more than ever appreciate each moment I have and those who choose to spend their moments with me. While at times I will admit, I have later become overwhelmed with a sense of urgency to accomplish more, to love harder, to say what is left unsaid, to hurry life... but I am able to use the tools I have learned in my recovery to breathe, to pause, to meditate, to pray, and to recognize that because I am human, sometimes fear will creep into any new experience, and then I get to choose to live in faith, and not fear. To remind myself that my job is allowed to impact my experience of life, and that it in fact SHOULD impact my experience, because I am human, and I never want to allow my experiences in life to cause me to seek to be desensitized from what I am feeling.
I have already lived a life where I ran from all that made me feel vulnerable. I have been a ghost wandering around the town I love while I was still alive. I sought to numb everything, the joy, the pain, the love. There is no strength in pretending to be strong at all costs. To be fake and plastic and robotic and self centered. Life for me is about fully embracing this human experience, and allowing it to shape my heart and soul. I am not saying I have mastered any of it, but I am truly giving it my full effort. I am making progress in this journey of self and journey of connection with others. So much of love was taught to me by placing myself in positions that showed me what love is not. It takes courage to be vulnerable, in a world that seems to profit on fear, jealousy, and hate. It takes courage to be vulnerable, to explore the parts of us that are dark and uncomfortable, to try to grow into something better than we were yesterday, to learn what real love could be, because so much of my life's experiences have been shaped by my own inability to accept myself and recognize that I am whole even during this growth process. I am learning that I do not need to hide the parts of me that are still unrefined and unpolished. That I do not need to have it all figured out, that I can have faith and embrace uncertainty, that what is right will come when I am ready to receive it, and that the only thing that I should never leave unsaid is that I love all of you who take the time, or have taken the time, to connect with me on some level. True connection, it is beginning to appear, is based on my ability to be vulnerable, because who could ever connect with perfect? Time is a gift not to be taken lightly, because it is the one of the few gifts we can give that can never be replaced. I am so grateful for you. Thank you for helping me learn love.
