About Me — J.H. Harrington
Author — Economist — Real Life Six Feet Under Character?
As a kid, going to the grocery store or leaving large community events like a play or church was the longest, most excruciating part of my life. It was at these times that people would stop a funeral director (my dad) and talk. These are not just everyday conversations about the weather; more often than not, they are immediate deep dives into personal grief. These are the moments that go unacknowledged, the moments of active listening, and being there for the people who had lost someone in the past, with little to no personal benefit, just the knowledge that these moments are part of the job if you care about what you do. No work/life separation or time off exists when it comes to a grieving family.
These moments are not on the clock. The funeral director learns this counseling through the school of hard knocks most of the time, but these moments do exist. It does not matter that they were running out last minute to get something for a dinner that was almost ready; if someone needed to talk in the cereal aisle for thirty minutes, dinner could wait. The oven was used to keep meals warm at times like these, and not a word was mentioned about the delay when dinner was finally ready. The time given with a listening ear was always far more important. If the kids were promised ice cream after the show and someone started easing into a conversation at the door, ice cream could wait for another time. If you were standing at a funeral in a foot of snow on a windy hill and you were notified that your family home was burning down, calmly finishing the burial and helping the family back to their cars was the only thing that mattered at that moment. These events happened countless times to me as a child or while working a funeral as a funeral director myself.
At social events, friends and family sometimes introduce me as a “party favor” of sorts, not just because I’m a good storyteller but because of the types of stories new acquaintances invariably ask me to tell. The conversation inevitably starts something like this:
“What business are you in?” or “So what do you do?”
The person who asks these questions usually asks them, expecting a bland response in hopes of common ground. However, when you are in my line of work, you can expect two things when answering this question: either a prolonged silence or a look of surprise. And then, people usually say:
“Oh, really? How fascinating! I have a question for you.”
The types of questions that follow typically fall into one of three categories.
Category #1: Macabre (myths/rumors/morbid curiosities)
I get the feeling these questions have been lying in the back of the person’s mind but were perceived as too morbid to utter aloud. That is until they hear the words, “I’m a funeral director.”
“Is it ever creepy working alone at night?”
“What is the strangest thing that you have seen?”
“Have you ever had to dig someone back up?” (You mean exhume a body, I think to myself.)
“Do they ever sit up?” (Anyone who tells you this happens is lying to you. I am sad to disappoint.)
Category #2: Personal Experience
These are more follow-up statements that use my “I’m a funeral director” to launch into a personal experience with death. This category diverges quickly between those who actually need to talk to someone or verbalize their grief and those taking the rare conversational opportunity. Those sharing personal grief, I am absolutely willing to talk with, no matter the setting. If this is the place and time that feels right for the person sharing, I’m more than willing to offer a listening ear. The other path usually consists of lots of ‘I’ statements that take on an oddly bragging tone with
experiences around death. I’m not a big fan of the latter but acknowledge it too as a mode of communicating a grief experience and as something that deserves a polite and listening ear.
Category #3: Pop Culture
We have all seen a movie or TV show that shows, even for a moment, how we interact with death. From Jack Black in the movie Bernie to scenes from NCIS (insert city here), many questions can come from the woodwork. Some- times, these questions are about the accuracy of how things are portrayed. Questions like:
“Would that really happen if…”
“Do you personally play all the songs on the organ?”
“Have you seen that show Six Feet Under? Is it really like that?”
By far, the HBO series Six Feet Under is the most referenced and asked about. The show aired five seasons between 2001 and 2005 and depicted a family who runs a funeral home and their complicated lives that still exist in the meantime.
“So, have you seen Six Feet Under?”
“Yes.”
“Is it really like that?” they ask.
“Sure, but the drama from one episode is roughly equivalent to the drama experienced throughout an entire career.”
Venturing too far from this simple and admittedly vague answer creates awkward situations more often than not. Usually, the person asking either realizes they were seeking answers outside their comfort zone or shifts the conversation to a personal past loss when they were not prepared to take a deep dive into their grief journey at the moment they asked. Either way, many factors such as setting, affect, tone, and passion are all indicators you have to look for in a person before you answer this question.
“At the end of the day, I just hope I can connect with as many people in a real way as possible, and offer what help I can along the way.”
J. H. Harrington has spent his entire life with death. A fifth-generation funeral director and embalmer, J. grew up in a funeral home, where the divide between life and death was scarcely more than a veil. At the Harringtons, grown-ups spoke openly about grave matters from which other parents might have shielded young ears. And kids entertained themselves on wheeled casket carts fashioned into race cars. For J., this unorthodox upbringing fostered a bedside manner that’s as comfortable as it is comforting and a sense of humor that straddles the line between deadpan and macabre. With an advanced degree in thanatology — the study of death, dying, and bereavement — J. H. Harrington is both an industry expert and the life of the party.
For more interesting topics that discuss death, dying, and bereavement in a technology world, check out: Digital Remains by J.H. Harrington. Available anywhere books are sold.
