The guy behind me plowing a path through the snow to a gravesite is Ed.  Last Friday, I showed up at a somewhat secluded cemetery to inter cremated remains with the deceased’s family.

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When I drove in (an hour before the family arrived), Ed was plowing the cemetery drive.  I rolled down my car’s window, he shut his little snow plow off, and I yelled out, “are you the one who ordered this white stuff?” He chuckled and said, “No, but I’m the one getting this shit out of the way.” I had no idea who Ed was, never met him before.  I introduced myself and he explained who he was.

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It turned out that Ed is just a neighbor who saw that the cemetery hadn’t been plowed.  He also figured out that there was a graveside service and decided that he’d plow the cemetery with his small plow so we could get into it.

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Ed was easily into his 80s, hunched over, grey haired with a sailor’s mouth. “What kind of service you have today?” He asked. “It’s a private cremation interment, only the deceased’s mother and grandson are attending.  The mother uses a walker” I explained.  I had brought a shove because I figured I’d have to shovel a path from the drive to the gravesite, but as soon as I told Ed, he started his plow and carved out the path you can see in the photo.

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This business is full of experiences that viewed alone would destroy your faith in humanity.  There’s the murders, the accidents, the death of children, but for every one thing horrible, there’s 10 Eds who restore our faith.

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You’ve heard the Fred Roger’s quote about looking for the helpers (I’ll put the quote in the comments so you can read it again). Seeing the Eds — the helpers— is the privilege of working around death.  Because there’s so much in humanity that’s horrible, but then there’s complete strangers who curse like a sailor while cutting a path through the snow for a bereaved mother and grandson who make the horrible just a little better.

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Look for the Eds.  And if you can’t find them, you know what to do because it’s written deep in your heart.  The helpers aren’t saints.  The helpers are me and you.  The helpers see snow and they plow it.

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#confessionsofafuneraldirector

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