7 years later: “There are years that ask questions and years that answer them.”

Today, on the 7 year anniversary of my mom’s death, I found myself at the cemetery where she is buried… but this time I was at work. 

I’ve wondered how to say these next words, where to begin, and when the “right time” would be once I decided how to make some large, decorated announcement (in true fashion). 

I don’t frequent this particular cemetery, so a visit to this location falling on this exact day gave me the answer to at least that last question. The person buried here, the person I am because of the person buried here, the loss of that person, the course that loss set me on… is the reason for all of this. And that time is now.

After years of praying about this, so much time spent assisting my own family in similar ways, and more than one gentle nudge from my sister in law, I decided to combine my professional experience with something I feel so called to do, and pursue a career in Funeral Service. 

I use that word intentionally; “called”. 

This otherwise massive decision felt as comfortable as coming home, and I feel it’s no coincidence that the funeral home that welcomed me in was none other than the one in my hometown; the one that buried my mom and everyone I’ve ever loved. 

A change that seems (and admittedly is) so incredibly big has upended my life in every possible way, and yet it could not feel less disruptive. While I didn’t previously feel lacking in “purpose”, I can say without a doubt that this work has felt more like a true fit than anything I’ve ever done. Like an answer. Like THE answer. 

Doing marketing from home with my own clients on my own schedule was truly a blessing these last several years, and though these current hours are absolutely grueling, I can barely remember what life was like almost 6 months ago before I began on this journey. 

In every way I feel so connected to the person I really am; fully and completely, in this role… like an answer to a question that the years have asked. The “why” and the “when” have linked together now, and all at once I understand that the person my mom raised me to be, the education and experience she gave me, the foundation of faith, the strength of character, the determination, and all the ways her death changed everything for me has brought me to this exact place, in this exact time, with these exact people. 

This career requires things I couldn’t have given it before now: experience I didn’t have to call upon, time I didn’t have to spend, skills I didn’t have to utilize, strength I didn’t have to offer… the years had to come first. 

Profound grief can be othering. It can be isolating. I truly do believe that all the empathy in the world simply isn’t the same as an earned membership to a club you never intended or desired to be a part of. 

But here I am and so are they— these people who I meet in the middle of the night, often in the intimacy of their own homes as they trust my arms and my care to leave with what doesn’t belong to me. That’s the simple truth. It’s never any less profound. It's never less humbling. It's never lost on me.

Today I was in the very room my mom was brought into on this morning 7 years ago when she left our home. 

At least 3 of the people I currently work with on a daily basis (in that very room) were on the receiving end that day. 

Tonight I may very well get a call and if I do (no matter the time), I’ll take them in the exact same vehicle that she was taken in on this day 7 years ago. 

I meet with families in the same room my brother and I met in to make her arrangements. 

I sit behind the desk now, but I will never forget the view from the other side of that desk. 

I know what choosing a casket feels like as I guide you in the same steps we also walked. 

I know that the day you meet me is one of the worst days you’ll ever have and I am so sorry for that. 

You’ll hope you don’t have to see me again for a long time after this, but I’ll hope that if you do you’ll be relieved that you have someone. 

But more than that, more than anything, I’ll hope you believe me when I say that I understand in a way that only someone who did all of those same things you’ve just done here with me, can. 

Because that’s why I’m here with you now. 

The path that opened up on this day 7 years ago changed me forever and was riddled with so many questions. But now, as if someone is dusting off the crystal ball, I see so many answers surfacing as it illuminates-- the path I walked and the path ahead. 

I’ll try to write more about this profession when I can— more about all that goes into obtaining a license (it’s a lot), the schooling and degree necessary, the extreme hours, the apprenticeship expectations— because I know it’s not a typical topic of conversation and, though I may be biased,  I think it's pretty interesting. 

I have so many ideas for what I want to do in this industry… in this role… in my future, and maybe, if I can be so honored, in yours. 

In the meantime I just want you to know I’m here.  

If someone you love is dying and you want gentle help preparing for that, I’m here. 

If you have questions you’ve never been able to ask anyone about this part of life, I’m here. 

If someone you love dies (suddenly or expectantly) and you want someone you actually know to take care of them, I’m here. 

You can turn to me. 

I’d be honored. 

I’m here.