Carrying sadness.

by littlemissfuneral

“How can you be around death all the time?”
“Isn’t your job depressing?”
“How do you do what you do?”

Those are just some of the questions I receive.
I smile and nod. I tell them no, it’s not that bad.
Only sometimes.
Sometimes, after I’ve buried a baby. Or helped small children say goodbye to their mother.
Because then, I feel it creep up on me.
Like a piece of paper that has slipped out of my back pocket.
Sometimes I get sad for no reason at all.
Like when I see an elderly person eating dinner by themselves.
I want to go and wrap my arms around them.
I want to sit down and eat with them, offering some conversation.
But I don’t.
And who’s to say they want it?

Honestly, most of the time it’s in my head.
Because experiences have made me sad.
And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.
It’s just something that comes with the job.
It’s the role that I’ve taken upon myself.
To act as a modern day Anubis.
You see, I like this title.
If you come to me, I’ll help.
If you come to me, I’ll make it better.
And if you come to me, I’ll take some of your burden.
(Where I neatly tuck it in my back pocket.)
And I carry it with me.