Funeral Directing
Cheating On Your Local Undertaker
(Preface: If at anytime you are are utterly confused by this blog post, please skip to the bottom and read the postscript.)
*****
I know who you are. You can’t hide it.
You simply don’t allow my charming smile to affect you. My attempt at small talk is given the cold shoulder. And you won’t even look into my eyes.
You’ve already been taken. You’ve already given your heart to another.
I understand how it is.
Maybe he buried your mother. Maybe he buried a close friend.
And he has your heart. You talk about him like he’s the best thing on God’s green earth … his tender touch; his compassionate eyes, the professionalism he exhibits in that suit have won your hurting heart over. You’ll never bury with another.
It doesn’t matter that my funeral home is larger.
It doesn’t matter that I’m younger.
It doesn’t matter that my services are cheaper.
It doesn’t matter that I’m on call all night long.
You will never cheat on him … after all he’s done for you. You’ve pledged your faithfulness to him.
I understand.
Even if I speak tenderly: “Please sign the register book. And here’s a memorial folder.” But you just look down. Averting your eyes.
I know my voice is tempting you to connect with me, as you raise your eyes and whisper, “Thank you”
Suddenly, guilt envelopes your heart, as pictures of “the one” funeral director who was the last one to let you down start flashing through your mind. “Did I just connect with him when I said, ‘Thank you’? Did I commit an act of unfaithfulness? Did I cheat?”
Oh, I know what I’ve done. I sniffed you out as soon as you entered through the funeral home door. You were afraid to like me. You were sold out on YOUR funeral director and had all but forgotten any other funeral directors even existed. You came to this viewing to see your friend who had just lost her father and you didn’t expect to see me. But, when you saw me you started to wonder … your world started to open up.
I know you have a history with him. I know he treated you well. I could tell by the way you averted your eyes from me and spoke to me so coldly. You’re probably from a neighboring town, close enough that you COULD, POSSIBLY leave the funeral director in your home town and come on over to me.
And I know, that this meeting won’t be enough to entrust your heart to me. But, I can bet the next time you see me, you’ll reciprocate my smile. And the meeting after that, you might return my small talk.
And, our meeting after that might be slightly more personal. You might entrust me with your hardships and pain, and let my tender touch and compassionate eyes ease your pain.
I know what I’m doing. I’m going to be your next funeral director.
*****
(Postscript: It’s funny how you can tell who’s committed to another funeral director. Like I mentioned, they’ll often give you a cold shoulder. The relationship between a funeral director and their families is like few business relationships because of its personal nature. There’s a real commitment that takes place, and when a family “cheats” (takes their business to another funeral home), it often does feel like they’re personally rejecting YOU! And, I know of a number of funeral directors who play the temptress, and try and lure our families over to their funeral home through different marketing ploys. It’s kinda silly and kinda immature … and, it’s kinda funny.)
Sacrifice, Honor and Funerals: The Death of Military Personnel
War is hell.
I don’t know that anybody likes it … especially the families that are sending their young men and women over to fight.
It’s tough, both physically and emotionally on both the soldier and the soldier’s family and friends. It pushes us to make decisions we’d never make in a perfect world. But those who do fight do so out of a sense of duty, a sense of sacrifice.
And sometimes those young men and women not only fight … they also die.
Their story ends in a crescendo that is as sad as their decision to serve was honorable.
*****
When I heard about the 30 military personnel (37 persons overall) who were killed when their helicopter got shot down this past week, it made me think about my friend, Cpl. Brandon Hardy.
I played ball with Brandon when I was young.
He had a great smile.
His smile was one that brought out all the good in his face … it made him look more handsome … it brought out his awesome eyes … and made him look more mischievous too.
I remember where I was when I found out that Brandon was KIA in Iraq in the spring of 2006.
I was sitting in the chapel at the funeral home with my mom and all her family, looking at my maternal grandfather as he lay in his casket. He had passed only a couple days earlier after a short battle with cancer. The quiet was disturbed by the sound of the phone, prompting my father to run from the chapel to the office.
After a couple minutes he came back with the disturbing news.
*****
Cpl. Brandon Hardy
I’ve never seen our community pull together to honor somebody the way they honored Cpl. Brandon Hardy that week. In fact, as long as I live I’ll remember.
I’ll remember how – on the night of Brandon’s viewing – we left the funeral home, escorted by the police, with the family in procession behind us, and as we headed to the church, which was located nine miles away. There – by the thousands – were people lining our path, some waving flags, others holding signs, “We Love You Brandon!” and “We’re Proud of Your Sacrifice”; others saluting as the hearse and family drove by; but all – together — honoring Brandon’s sacrifice.
It was the single greatest outpouring of honor and love I have ever seen.
*****
I live in a special community. A community that – at times – is close knit to a fault. A small town, where your bad activity is in the paper the day before you do it. But, where there’s real love and real concern for their own.
Over the next couple days, as those 37 service men and woman are laid to rest, I can only hope their respective communities can honor their sacrifice as ours did for Cpl. Brandon Hardy and his family. I can only hope that the families can have that one grace – the grace of community that responds to sacrifice with honor.
There’s nothing more honorable than sacrifice.
And there’s nothing more moving than when that sacrifice is given in death. And there’s nothing more powerful than when that sacrifice is responded to by a community, out of their love.
*****
If you would, say a prayer for the 37 families who lost loved ones this past week. I don’t know any of them, but I know many of them will be dealing with anger, bitterness and a pain that few of us know, and that the rest of us should be thankful we’ll never understand.
Pray that their communities can pull together in support and give the families the grace of honor in death.
It’s in sacrifice that we see the highest and best in humanity.
And it’s in honor and love that we see humanities highest and best response.
>The Buried Stories of Arlington Cemetery
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Buried stories.
The most famous cemetery in North America houses some 300,000 human remains of presidents, government officials, soldiers and their spouses, all in the front yard of Robert E. Lee’s mansion (it was a overt gesture of blame by the North). I was there today, burying the wife of a WWII veteran. The photo shows the Army honor guard taking the casket out of the hearse and to the grave. This was the sixth time I’ve been involved with a burial at Arlington and it involved the least pomp. No gun salute. No caisson. No folding of the flag. No tears from the family.
The cemetery was founded after the Civil War, a reminder of the lose of war. And ironically, if all the war stories were recorded that are buried in the graves of Arlington, it might be enough to forestall any meditations of future wars. But those stories … those warnings, those horrors, those difficulties, those darkest hours of the human soul, and heroic sacrifices … are forever lost like the minds that once held them. Underneath the hallowed grounds of Arlington lie the dead, imbued by the mystery of stories “better left unsaid.” Buried stories, untold truths, mysteries forever, in graves they lay.
