I see dead people…

I walked into a room with red leather couches, dark walls and a glass fireplace. Quiet harp music was playing and a television was situated up high with a video of a white dove flying in slow motion across the screen. Abstract paintings from a local artist line the walls with big, red, decorative pots on the floor next to them. This room was the lobby of a funeral home and crematorium.

I have lost a lot of people around me. Not my parents, thankfully, but my grandparents, family friends, and high school friends. My small town has experienced so much loss within the past few years. It started with a motorcycle accident, then a tragic case of wrong place wrong time, a few traffic accidents, and a murder. Most of them were kids. Young people just like me.

I live life with the constant fear that something could happen to me or someone I know. A tragic accident, a sudden illness or even death. Death is unpredictable, and that’s why it terrifies me. Many people who believe in God don’t fear death. I went to a Catholic school for most of my childhood, but since then I’ve drifted away from my faith.

What better way to challenge my fear of dying than to shadow a funeral director and to see first hand what it’s like living and working around death every day.

When I entered the lobby, I was greeted by name at the door by a tall, older gentleman named David. He informed me that Rick, the person I was supposed to meet, was running late and that he would give me a tour of the facility while we waited for Rick to arrive.

He first told me that they were “not your average funeral home.” My thoughts exactly. We started the tour, and he walked me into the next room which is a reception area with tables and chairs and center pieces.

“We use this area for receptions after services, but we also use it for a lot of other things like bingo,” David said. “We are even hosting an event for the local artist who made all these paintings.”

Bingo? Art gallery? I thought this was a place where people go after they die.

We kept the tour moving, and I followed David into the casket room. This is where the caskets, urns and other final resting places are on display for people to choose. Who knew there were so many choices? There were caskets in all different colors. Decorative urns, sports-themed urns, biodegradable urns, urns made of Himalayan sea salt. Yes, the stuff you cook with. David said they are used for sea burials.

I learned a lot of valuable information. For example, you are actually cremated inside either a cardboard box or a casket. I thought you were just thrown in the oven all by yourself to burn. Perhaps that’s a lot of where my fear came from. The more I learned here, the less it scared me.

While we were in the casket room, I explained to David what my assignment was that I was here because I have a fear of death.

He chuckled and said, “So you want to hop in that casket?” No David, not funny.

He said he heard on the radio that today was “National Face Your Fears Day.” Everyone loves a little irony.

David asked me where my fear of death comes from, and I told him. He began to explain to me that he was once also afraid, but a near-death experience changed his mind. David said that he had appendix surgery and some complications arose. His organs were shutting down. He spoke to God and said, “If this is my time, I’m ready.” At this moment, the doctor said that his bowels made a noise. This is a good sign; it meant that he was getting better. David believes in God, and because of this he doesn’t fear death.

“God prays for you, even if you don’t pray to God,” he said.

At this point another gentleman walked in the casket room and introduced himself as Rick. David excused himself, I thanked him and he went back to the lobby.

We made our way out of the casket room and walked up to a large, black door. Rick reached across me and opened it. Inside, a large metal contraption spanning the entire length of the room. Rick said, “This is our crematorium.”

Here we go.

I stood at the doorway, leaned forward and poked my head in. There was something that made my feet freeze for a moment. Part of it was that I didn’t know if I was allowed in, and part of it was that I didn’t want to go in. Rick motioned to me and I stepped just inside the door and waited for him to lead the way.

He introduced me to the assistant maintenance man, Mike. I reached out to shake his hand, and then I remembered what room I was in. Let’s just say I tracked down some hand sanitizer as soon as I could. Mike had such a thick Southern accent that I could barely understand him. Also, his title doesn’t necessarily give you an idea of what he really does. Mike takes the bodies from the fridge, which is located in the same room, and puts them on the conveyor belt that goes into the cremation unit. After the body is cremated, Mike removes the bones and puts them into the grinder. Yes, it does exactly that.

We walked over to the freezer. Rick told me previously that I wouldn’t be able to see any bodies, but I guess he was in a good mood. He opened the door and I looked inside. It’s just like you see on TV, but surprisingly, no foul smell. Perhaps I just stopped breathing at that point anyway. Metal tables lined the wall from top to bottom with three of them holding bodies. One table was placed in the middle of the fridge. It held a body wrapped in plastic as if it was just dug out of the ground at a crime scene.

Rick pointed to it and said, “Uh, I don’t know what’s going on with that dude, but this is our fridge!”

We journeyed to the next room where Rick walked directly to a cabinet. He opened it and took out a box. He opened the box and said, “This is what ashes look like.”

A fine, white powder. They look just like, flour.

The cabin was full of paper boxes with bags of ashes inside each of them. Rick said that those ashes were people that were never claimed. They sit in the cabin until someone picks them up. For some of these people, this will be their final resting place.

After the tour, I followed Rick to his office to listen as he answered some phone calls. In between calls I asked him questions about what it was like working in this field.

“Has there been any moments or services that have affected you in a different way?” I asked.

“Whenever it involves a child,” Rick said. “I had a child that was murdered by his parents. Anything tragic always has an effect on you.”

After he said this, I remembered all the young people my small town has lost recently. At least six deaths in three years.

“What have you learned?” I asked next.

“I never say, ‘I know what you’re going through.’ Because I don’t. I have lost people, but it still doesn’t mean I know what they are going through. Everyone is different, every situation is different,” Rick said. “You also can’t judge people. You can’t force beliefs on anyone. Everybody has a story. Everyone has their wishes.”

After shadowing Rick and David, I thanked them and got in my car. I was in a surprisingly good mood. I realized how lucky I am to be alive and that maybe I should consider going back to church. I also know I want to be buried in a rose gold casket.

By the numbers:

Average number of visitors at the funeral home for artist show — 35

Average number of people at funeral — 50

Temperature in degrees of cremation machine — 1700

Average number of boxes of ashes in cabinet — 6

Number of caskets on display — 6 Full Size, 12 Partial Caskets

Number of urns on display — 30

Number of years David has worked in industry — 10

Number of years Rick has worked in industry — 35

Temperature of the fridge — 38

Number of bodies in fridge at given time — 8, Capacity is 20

Number of bodies maintenance man handles in each day — 2

Largest number of people ever at funeral service — 400

Number of young people I know that have died in Punta Gorda within the last three years — 7