How a Day at the Funeral Home Changed My Life Forever, Part II: Children’s Hospital

How a Day at the Funeral Home Changed My Life Forever, Part I

“Why the unmarked, white van?” I asked as we headed out to the children’s hospital.

Leslie paused to think for a second. “It’s unassuming. It doesn’t draw attention to itself or to what we are doing and it makes it easy to slide in and slide out without much fanfare, so to speak.”

“That makes sense,” I said, before changing the subject. “Tell me something, does what we are about to do impact you in any way?”

“Of course it does,” she said, “especially when it comes to children.”

“How do you cope with it?”

“I focus on being professional and doing a quality job; that means being there for the families and helping them cope with their loss. But inside,” as she pointed to her heart, “I’m feeling their pain…how can I not! “

“So what is it we are about to do?” I asked.

“We are picking up a premature baby who died from complications last night.”

A sudden heaviness engulfed my body as we pulled into a reserved spot in the back of the hospital.

Leslie had her game face on now. “Let’s go.”

I followed her as we walked through the back entrance, across 2 corridors, and down a set of stairs; clearly she had been here before. Waiting for us, as we walked down into the next room, was a couple of women with sad expressions on their faces. One had some type of insulated container in her hands and handed it over to me.

My eye doubled in size as I looked over at Leslie for rescue.

She nodded for me to take the container.

I took it and held it tight, like I wanted to protect it…like I was holding a baby!

As we drove back towards the funeral home, with the container safely secured and sitting comfortably on my lap, my thoughts kept drifting to the parents of this infant and the devastation they must be feeling right now. It made me sad on one hand and honored on the other hand—honored to be a part of this life-to-death transition for this baby…this person…this soul.

I looked over at Leslie and said, “I’m beginning to see why this is no ordinary job; why it takes a special person to do this kind of work.”

She smiled. “It’s why I do it.”

“Say more about that?” I asked.

“I feel like I’m doing something that matters. Everybody will experience the loss of a loved-one at some point in his or her life, right?”

“Of course.”

“Think about it,” she said. “I’m in a professions that touches everyone. How many people can say that?”

“Not many,” I retorted, as we exited the highway and turned towards the funeral home.

“Whenever I think I have it bad,” she continued, “I just have to think about some of these families and what they are going through. Things quickly get put back into perspective, if you know what I mean.”

Moments later we pulled into an area behind the main building that I hadn’t seen before.

“What now?” I asked.

“We are going to put the baby’s remains into the cooler for now.”

“Wait, the cooler? Is it what I think it is?” I said.

She nodded. “Brace yourself.” And just to make sure I knew she was serious, she added, “This might be hard to see,” as she pushed opened the heavy door.

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