Funeral Directing
You’ve done good, Love
So, guys. You know what’s okay to do . . . even though it’s hard and slightly weird? It’s okay to tell yourself that you’re doing a good job.
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Life is hard. Death is hard. Grief is hard. Death care is hard. Getting out of bed, getting dressed, helping the kids get ready for school, and walking out the door to work isn’t easy. Some days, just getting out bed is a victory (especially after a night call [my selfie is a #nightcallselfie].
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Let me speak for a minute to those of you in any kind of human service work (including parenting because that shit is the toughest of human services . . . and, lest I forget, the human service of self-care because the mental, physical, and spiritual health of ourselves is an uphill battle everyday, a steeper uphill battle for those of us with any kind of trauma or sickness). SO EVERYONE IS IN SOME FORM OF HUMAN SERVICE!
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If you’re caring for the grieving, for the sick, or for the dead and dying, you’re doing a good job. If you’re caring for your family, kids, parents, relatives or the family you’ve chosen, you’re doing a good job. If you’re caring for yourself and your health and trauma, you’re doing a good job. How do I know? Because you’re here. You’ve made it this far.
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But, let’s be honest: I don’t know you. I don’t know what you do. I don’t know your faults and struggles. I don’t know the nuances of your life. BUT YOU KNOW MORE OF YOU THAN ANYBODY.
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Of course you have your faults. We all do. Faults are part of learning. Sins are chances for growth. Shit can grow flowers. But stop and look at how far you’re come.
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I’m NOT an optimist. And I’ve never been a huge fan of positive self-talk, but I’m also a realist who knows that telling yourself good things usually produces better things. Because self-fulfilling prophecy works.
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Today, I told myself that I’m doing a good job. I took a minute to look at the good I’ve done over the past five years (and sometimes that good is just surviving). As we head into the weekend, remind yourself the same. You’ve done good, Love.
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#confessionsofafuneraldirector
Look for the helpers
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
Finding the magic in life
A few years ago, Pop Pop stepped away from making funeral arrangements for a few reasons, namely that at 87 he’s outlived and buried most of his contemporaries, an accomplishment that would make some feel lonely, but for him it feels like completion. He was here for his friends and family when they needed him, and now that most of them are gone, he focuses on other things at the funeral home.
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Even now, every once in a while, someone Pop Pop grew up with will die, so he puts on suit and tie and takes charge of the funeral arrangements. Today was one of those days. A 91 year old friend of our family passed, and Pop Pop met with her family.
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I came down in the middle of the arrangements to grab some information (and snapped this photo in the process) so I could type an obituary draft for the family to read before they left. Pop Pop’s proud of me being in the business, as any family patriarch would be. When I entered the arrangement room to get the info, he started doing what grandfathers do when they’re proud of their grandson.
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After talking about my book (he’s read it four times, or so he says), he started talking about passing off the business. He said, “I’d give it up, but I can’t. I’ve always loved my job, there’s nothing else I’d rather do, so why stop doing what I love just because I’m 87?”
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There’s a number of things that make for a good life, and one of them is finding what you love, and somehow or another making it your profession. It’s rare that we do what we love, but when we do, it not only benefits us, it benefits everyone our work touches.
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Pop Pop’s love for the business and the people he serves has benefited those people just as much as it’s benefited my Pop Pop. He might be 87 years old, but when he’s working with his people, it’s like his 87 year old body momentarily drinks from the fountain of youth. That’s the magic you find when you do what you love. And that magic spills over to the people you love.
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#confessionsofafuneraldirector
As a Funeral Director, Here Are 10 Questions You Should Never Be Afraid to Ask Me
One. Can I ask you a weird question?
THERE ARE NO WEIRD QUESTIONS. Dying, death and death care are clouded in a sense of mystery. After our loved ones die, they’re whisked away by the hospital staff, or by a funeral director. Once at the funeral home, the body is either transformed through embalming or cremation. That whole period — from death to disposition — offers all too many questions for the deceased’s loved one. This is why there are no weird questions. Ask us anything and everything and we’ll give you an honest answer.
Two. Can I help?
Firstly, this is YOUR loved one. It’s not ours. One of my sayings I like to tell families to reaffirm that idea is this: “you’ve loved and cared for them up to this point, so don’t stop now.” There are some things we can’t let you help with, like embalming, but there are a hundred other things like dressing your loved one, helping in the transfer, doing the hair, makeup and even riding in the hearse.
URL: https://www.flickr.com/people/timomcd/
Title: Pig’s Heart
Year: 2011
Source: Flickr
Three. Can you fix …?
If you’re having a viewing, it’s always good to pre-view your loved one before the public viewing. If mom’s hair is off, if the clothing isn’t on correctly, if it isn’t your mother lying in the casket … you need to ask us to fix that problem.
Four. Can I see your General Price List?
The General Price List shows the itemized list of our prices so you can make an intelligent financial decision when shopping for a funeral home. In fact, the Federal Trade Commissions requires us to give you this list. The FTC states, “You must give the General Price List to anyone who asks, in person, about funeral goods, funeral services, or the prices of such goods or services.”
Five. Can I have a little longer with my loved one?
OMG, yes. And any funeral director who responds otherwise should be fired. Remember, this is your loved one, not ours.
Six. Can you rub my back?
Embalmers generally massage the arms, legs, and face of the deceased to help with fluid distribution. So, we are able to massage. And even though your body might be strained from grief, we’re probably gonna say “no” to this question. Sorry. You’ve got be dead to get that service.
Seven. Can I watch …?
This is a valid question. Again, most funeral directors will say “no” if you ask to watch an embalming, but just about anything else is on the table. Many crematories will even let you hit the “start” button.
Eight. How can I save money?
Funeral directors should have YOUR best interest in mind, not their own. If you want an inexpensive funeral, the funeral director knows how to cut corners better than anyone. (And, just as free advice, this question should be asked BEFORE your loved one passes. Call around. Ask funeral homes for their GPL. And find one that you’re both comfortable working with, AND, is inexpensive. You could save a couple thousand just by shopping around.)
Nine. “Can you cut out the heart of my husband and have it cremated separately so I can put the heart ashes in a cremation locket? I want the cremation locket of his heart next to my heart.”
This was an actual question a widow asked a buddy funeral director. He said “no.”
Ten. Can you help me with …?
If we got into this work for anything than other than service we’re doing it entirely wrong. It’s not bad if we make money, but the main reason we’ve maintain a place in society is because we’ve helped you in your hardest moments. Good funeral directors are service oriented, and the best ones are both service-oriented and intelligently helpful.
*****
If you like my writing, consider buying my 2017 Nautilus Book Award Gold Winner, Confession of a Funeral Director (click the image to go to the Amazon page):
Honest and Practical Talk about Wanting a Traditional Funeral When You Don’t Have Any Money
The biggest problem that I have with the funeral industry is that we’ve made honor a commodity.
Let me explain by taking you on a short imaginary journey where unicorns exist and Fred Rogers is still alive. Unfortunately, in this imaginary world, your Dad dies suddenly at 60 years of age. Your dad worked hard his entire life, was generally overlooked by his peers, and was never given the respect and honor you knew he deserved. For his funeral, you want to make things right. You want to give him an honorable and respectful send-off. And you want the works … embalming, a nice casket, a nice cemetery lot, upscale flowers, a big funeral luncheon with all your dad’s favorite foods … all of it.
One problem. You don’t have any money. What do you do?
I know, I know … you’re saying this isn’t you because in this imaginary world you’re choosing cremation, or sky burial, or a Viking Funeral. Maybe you plan to lay your body at the altar of science.
Back to the real world: This “making death a commodity” is a long-held tension, dating back thousands of years. The plainness of the Jewish funeral rites is a reaction to this tension. The rich were having opulent funerals while those less wealthy would “sell the farm” to give their family something on the same level as the rich. In the Babylonia Talmud, it’s written:
Formerly, (it was customary) to bring out the rich for burial on a dargesh (a tall, stately bed, ornamented and covered with rich coverlets) and the poor on a plain bier, and the poor felt shamed; they instituted … that all should be brought out on a plain bier, out of deference for the poor …
Today, things have flipped. The rich and those with higher education have a much higher cremation (per data collected by CANA).
Based on my experience, this is how I’d explain that data: those that have been disrespected in life often want to be respected in death. If a family or people group have been subjected to socioeconomic, political, legal, cultural, or institutional oppression, there’s a desire to give in death what wasn’t given in life: honor. Honor in death means many things, but here in American, it has too often meant a “traditional funeral” and burial. For many Americans who have felt dishonored, cremation — the less expensive option — is often seen as another layer of disrespect.
And when a family sees a traditional funeral and burial as THE ONLY WAY TO HONOR THEIR DEAD, therein lies the problem that’s been created by the American Funeral Industry.
Because …
If you want a full traditional burial, the cemetery lot, cemetery opening, the vault, and the casket (the vault and casket can be bought from third-party suppliers, or bought from the funeral home) are going to start at around $4,000 (this number varies by location … cemeteries cost more the closer you get to a city, so it could be more or less depending on where you live and where you die). If the funeral home charged NOTHING for their own professional service, there are still thousands of dollars in play just for plot purchase, plot opening, and the vault that 95% of cemeteries require.
I look forward to the day when that $4,000 can be cut in half with green cemeteries that don’t require a vault, use a less expensive and bio-degradable casket, and — in some circumstances — can have the grave dug by the families themselves. But until the day when there’s a green cemetery close to everyone’s home (because proximity is always a major concern), that $4,000 for a traditional funeral is a starting point even before the funeral director is involved.
On top of that estimated 4K, funeral homes — like ours — charge for our work, time, facilities, etc. Our funeral home charges approximately $3,000 for our “services” start to finish, which includes embalming, dressing and cosmetology, logistical and form filing work, the use of our cars and equipment, use of our facilities, the funeral directing itself, backrubs, vodka, dragon rides, and anything and everything else you want us to do (if you nix embalming, it’s less, obvs, much less if you nix the vodka).
Other funeral homes — especially the ones with exorbitant debt — can charge double or triple what we charge.
Let me throw some thoughts at you …
The fact is that many funeral homes are too expensive.
Any many funeral directors have a complicit and implicit bias towards poverty and those who find themselves a part of it.
But funeral homes aren’t banks. We don’t finance funerals. We don’t offer loans.
Most funeral homes require payment (or proof of payment, i.e. an insurance policy or irrevocable burial reserve) upfront because we have been beat one too many times.
If the price is a major concern, shop around. A funeral at our funeral home costs thousands less than our competitors. One phone call could be the deal-maker or deal-breaker.
Funeral homes do give pro-bono funerals, but those funerals are rarely for people who lack funds, and they rarely cover the cemetery fees. Pro-bono funerals are usually for tragic and complicated deaths, such as infants and children.
GoFundMe hardly ever works (and the funeral home won’t accept “I started a GoFundMe for grammy’s funeral” as proof of payment).
Asking churches for money can only do so much.
Trying to find an uncle or aunt or grandparent or distant relative to finance the funeral IS THE BEST OPTION.
But here’s the real honest talk. You ready?
A traditional funeral and burial is only ONE WAY to honor the deceased.
Honoring the deceased is about the community they’ve created.
It’s about that community coming together and expressing their love.
Honor doesn’t need ornate caskets, pretty hearses, and large gravestones.
Honor doesn’t need a funeral with flashy clothing in a flashy building with flashy flowers.
Honor is about love. And whenever love is shown in celebration of that person’s life, you’ve honored your loved one.
*****
If you like my writing, consider buying my 2017 Nautilus Book Award Gold Winner, Confession of a Funeral Director (click the image to go to the Amazon page):
