little miss funeral

an average girl working at your not so average job

Tag: loss

April 2, 2019

Painting her nails.

I had to paint her nails.

It was a simple act that I’ve done thousands of times. On myself. On girlfriends. Heck, on hundreds of dead bodies. It’s a little bit more difficult on those who are embalmed, though. Their hands are firm because of the chemicals and they don’t bend like my friend’s would if we were having fun at a slumber party. This time, though; this time it was very different.

This time, instead of going into my makeup kit and pulling out the basic soft pink – you see, it’s the perfect shade for every little old lady, adds just a hint of color while still looking ‘natural’ – I had the bright pink polish waiting there. Given to the funeral home from the family. It was a loud color. A color that I would have never used unless specifically asked because it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But this time it made sense. Because this time it was for a little girl.

The minute we got the call I made myself scarce. A little girl? What happened? Was she sick? Was it an accident? Where’s her mom? I started to ask the other director a million questions. Children funerals are never easy, but this was the first time I’d be burying one while I was a mom myself. You never know how you’ll react in certain situations, and I very quickly found out that I couldn’t do it.

My coworkers were very understanding. Being a new mom comes with a lot of changes, physically, mentally, hormonally. Maybe I’ll be using the hormones as an excuse for the rest of my life, but how else can I explain myself? Certain deaths have always affected me, but I have always been able to contain myself and be professional to walk others through their loss. After all, a crying funeral director isn’t going to be able to help anyone. I need to comfort, not be comforted.

But I needed to paint her nails. If I couldn’t do anything else for her, damn it, I was going to paint her nails.

I walked into the funeral chapel during the early hours of the morning. I walked up to her casket and looked inside. My eyes saw an angel. Perfect eyelashes, soft lips, and cheeks that you just wanted to kiss a million times. She was absolutely perfect. So I opened up her hot pink nail polish, and began to paint the littlest nails ever. As I placed her hands back down I realized that I had been crying. And I realized, once again, that sometimes this job really sucks.

I want to always be able to be there for people when I’m called upon. But in this new season of my life, I’m still learning how to balance my personal life with my work life. How do I merge Mama Lauren with Funeral Director Lauren? Will I ever be able to do it?

And will I ever be able to stop feeling guilty for putting myself first? Because yes, sometimes putting myself first means letting others down. But you cannot pour from an empty pitcher. And I keep reminding myself that I need to be able to water my own flower. Because this life is short and unfair, and as a funeral director I’ve been given this gift of understanding. So little angel, I hope your pink nails sparkle from Heaven. And I pray that God wraps his arms around your mama, because I know that she’d give anything to wrap her arms around you.

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August 30, 2018

National Grief Awareness Day + Goodgrief App

When Eddie died, I didn’t know how to feel.

I don’t mean that in the literal sense, because I hope it’s quite obvious that I was grieving very hard, but I didn’t know where I stood relationship wise. I loved Eddie. I often describe him as my second grandfather, a protector, but we were close because we worked together. So even though he meant so much to me, when I described who he was to an outsider, they could not understand how I felt exactly because they saw our relationship as it was; co-workers.

In my grief, I needed others to understand. I needed to talk about it, and write about it, and explain how I felt so I didn’t hold it all inside. So I did those things. And even though I was met with support from others, no one really got it. In one way, I am sort of happy that others didn’t understand, because that meant that they never went through a loss like that. But one the other hand, it would have been nice to be able to really communicate with someone who had been through something similar.

Every one has a different way to cope and deal with grief. There’s no one way to grieve a loss and the road is hard and can be long. Companionship during this journey can help when you just feel overcome with emotions and feel like the days will never get better. Sometimes, it’s enough to have someone check in and see how you’re doing. Sometimes, you need someone to just be there with you, sharing in the silence. And other times, what we need is someone in a similar situation so we can explain what we’re going through and have the other person get it.

Today, August 30, 2018 is National Grief Awareness Day. I am so proud to be able to partner with the Goodgrief App and share this wonderful resource with others.

The Goodgrief App was co-founded by two women named Kim and Robynne. It’s a social network for people dealing with loss. It puts you in touch with others who have lost their partners, parents, child, relative, or friend. It allows you to connect with others who are in the same boat as you and who get what you’re going through.

I know there were so many times when I actually felt bad for talking about Eddie. It’s so silly to actually type those words, but I would sometimes feel like I was bothering those in my immediate circle because I just wanted to talk about him and get my grief out. If I would have known about this app, it would have helped me so much during the beginning of my grief journey.

There is no time frame for how long a person should grieve. This app, allows you to find others who can be a support system for you, no matter how long you may need them. The important thing to remember is that you are not alone, you are never alone, and there are wonderful individuals out there like Kim and Robynne who are working hard every day to make certain that we all have resources so we understand those truths.

For National Grief Awareness Day, I ask you all to look into the Goodgrief App and see what it can offer to you on your grief journey. I also ask you to pick up your phone, and send a little text or call someone you know who may be struggling. Let them know they’re not alone. Maybe just sit with them in their silence. Because one thing in this life is true, at one point or another we will all lose someone we love. It really does take a village and there is no need to be ashamed of that.

 

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April 6, 2017

How actions can speak louder than words.

This past week I had a very difficult funeral.

A young person passed away under traumatic circumstances. During the visitation, I found myself making up excuses to steal their mother away so she could come and sit in the office with me for a few moments. She needed a break.

Each time she would tell me that all of the callers were saying the same thing over and over again to her. She was drowning in her grief as it was, and the amount of people who came to pay their respects was overwhelming her.

I told her that each person would tell her things from a good place in their heart, but during times of grief words fall short.

When someone dies, no matter the circumstances, we don’t know what to say. We tell the grieving that we are sorry for their loss. That their loved one is in a better place. Or that their loved one is not suffering anymore.

These are sayings that have become so familiar with those of us who visit funeral homes that at times we may not really know what we are saying.

And nothing that you say can make a death better. No words can bring someone back to life. So what do you say? Maybe, instead, it should be what you can do.

You would be amazed at the healing work a hug can do. Or the next time you have to go to a funeral, you could share your favorite story of the deceased with their family. Or maybe in the weeks following the funeral, you’ll stop by with a warm meal, or you could offer to take them out to dinner so they can get out of the house.

Words cannot fix a death, but actions can help us feel less alone.

Words can be empty promises, but actions are proof that people care.

Sometimes, you don’t need to say anything at all. Sometimes, you just need to be there.

I know that this person’s mother appreciated all of her family and friends coming to pay their respects. But I have a feeling that in the days and weeks to come, she’ll remember those who were there for her in other ways a lot more than some of the “I’m sorry for your loss” statements that she received during the funeral.

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March 19, 2017

Carrying them with me.

I still get really sad.

It’s been three months since Eddie died and there are moments when I’m at the funeral home half expecting him to still walk through the front door.

It’s been over two years since my dog Bandit died and sometimes when I walk into my parent’s home I’m still surprised when he’s not sitting on the top steps of the living room.

And even though my grandfather died over fifteen years ago I can still feel tears behind my eyes when I’m in St. Andrew’s Church working a funeral home and the organist starts to play “On Eagle’s Wings”.

But there are a lot of smiles in between the sadness, too.

When I think of Eddie I think of how he protected me and how he allowed me to see the soft and caring side of him. I smile when I remember how I could never travel in his car with him without exiting with so much ash from his cigarettes. Something that I would roll my eyes at when it happened but something that I now miss so much now, dammit.

I find myself smiling on cold days remembering how Bandit used to burrow under the covers of my blanket and keep me warm. And how I would refuse to get up because I knew he was comfortable and how I never wanted to disturb him. I laugh when I watch old videos and hear how he used to snore and make ‘old man’ noises when he slept. Sounds that used to carry me off to sleep.

And when I think of my grandfather, I smile remembering how he always wore that blue sweater, no matter what the weather was like outside. No matter how ratty it ended up getting, he loved it and wouldn’t listen to anyone who told him to take it off. My heart is warm thinking of my grandfather, because I know, truly, what it is like to be the joy in someone else’s life. He was one of the first people who taught me what it means to love and to give to others.

When I think of these people in my life that I’ve loved I think of what a privilege it has been that I got to spend any time with them at all. I think of all the ways that they’ve shaped me into who I am today.

I still get really sad. Time does not heal all wounds, but instead we become warriors who carry the love we’ve shared inside us. It’s okay to never get over a death. But we need to also remember the happy times, because it’s not okay to never move forward.

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April 30, 2015

For JW.

My husband lost a friend this past month.

A young man who I never got the chance to meet, but whose death I grieved greatly.

About a year ago, his family heard that word that stops even the strongest of men in their tracks.

But he was a warrior and he beat the cancer.

At the wake his father said that he gave so much of his heart away, that in the end he did not have enough for himself.

I hugged his mother and sister, not able to find words for comfort.

No words could bring him back.

I want them to know that even though I never met Jed, I loved him very much.

My husband sat and told me stories of them together as kids.

And I thought to myself, how amazing to have lived such a short life and to have affected so many.

How amazing to have gone through something so horrible, but to have brought such peace into the world.

What a legacy to leave behind.

To not curse the hand you’ve been dealt, but to play your cards righteously.

To fight with all you have.

To give so much of your heart away to others so as not to have any left for yourself.

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