When I was a kid my mom used to have to drag me kicking and screaming to funerals. I would cry looking at the dead body. I would cry looking at the priest. The whole funeral process just creeped me out. It wasnt until I was in high school and was looking for a summer job that my mom told me she had a friend who needed some help and he would put some money in my pocket over the summer to do a few chores. I said great, What kind of business does he run? She told me he ran a funeral home.

My parents had known this family for a long time, as did I. It never crossed my mind that I would be working for him. But they had heard that I was looking for work and they needed some cheap help. I stopped over one afternoon and talked with the owner.

When you visit a funeral home in the morning or afternoon without a funeral or wake going on, you get a completely different perspective. It is like many other businesses. People are talking in regular voices instead of in a whispering or respectfully somber tone. Music is playing. The doors are all open and they work in offices in the back or other area of the building. The only difference from any regular office was that a deceased person was in a casket in each parlor in the funeral home. Because of the totality of the situation, it was neither an uncomfortable nor terrifying place.

During my employment I had to handle normal job obligations as well as singular assignments. I could not begin any individual assignment until my regular duties had been completed. Much of the job related to cleaning.

I pretty much had to run the vacuum at least three times a day. Usually once in the morning, once again around mid-afternoon after flower deliveries, and again after visitors and mourners left. The funeral director was very adamant that he didnt want to see a speck of dirt on the carpets. The vacuuming was very easy. But vacuuming near a dead body at 9:30 in the morning took a little getting used to.

Another part of my job was to clean every car that the funeral home owned. This included the hearse, delivery vans, and family cars. Each car had to be cleaned after every use. It was a bit tricky operating the hose and not getting myself wet, but I managed. I also had to vacuum inside of the cars. Its an odd feeling crawling into the back of hearse knowing that not two minutes ago there was a dead body in there.

We often received casket deliveries on a particular day of the week. They take a lot of work. After a family purchases a casket for the deceased, it is sent to the rear of the funeral home. If the body was not ready to be put out for viewing in a parlor, it was necessary to lug the casket down the stairs for storage. Often times only two of us moved them downstairs. Because pallbearers carry them from the sides and are different heights and move at different paces, it is actually easier to move them with only 2 people.

Probably the hardest part was when families came to make arrangements. I had to be quiet and remain out of site. The same thing was true for when we had afternoon visitation hours. Respect for the families came first. This is when I usually washed the cars or did other outdoor chores.

After about two weeks of working in the funeral home, all of my fears had dissipated. I didnt blink when vacuuming next to a dead body. I could climb into the back of hearse with no problem; it was just another car that had to be cleaned. I really started to enjoy my job and the extra money I earned really came in handy later on as I was preparing for college. The experience of working in a funeral parlor actually helped me later on in life in coping with family tragedies; while its never easy, I think it made me stronger.