Happy Holidays

It's never a good time to lose a loved one. It's especially bad when someone close dies during the Holiday Season. The dilemma these families face during this very difficult time is whether or not they should celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas given the circumstances.

I get this question often during this time of year. Deep down, these folks know in their heart that their deceased loved one is in a better place, and that they would insist the survivors celebrate as they normally would. The problem of course is that it's hard to have a good time when your heart is ripped into pieces.

My advice is always the same. Gather the family together as you normally would and include the deceased person in the celebration. Set a place at the table where they normally would have sat. Share happy memories of past holidays you shared together. I've found through personal experience that as the years pass, this new tradition of sharing stories helps enrich the holiday experience.

I can remember the year my grandmother died. We were all very close to her, and when Thanksgiving rolled around, we were not in the mood to give thanks. Despite this fact, we got together, and it turned out well. We shared stories about past Thanksgivings. The tears and the laughter were incredible.

My favorite story is how seemingly every year, my grandmother ended up getting splattered with some sort of food item while sitting at the table. I'm not exagerating. She wore an apron because someone always spilled food in her general direction, and it never missed her. One year, I can vividly remember my father uncorking the champagne. Well, it was actually Asti Spumante which, the best I can tell, is Italian champagne. The cork sailed accross the table missing my brother's head by inches and the Asti cascaded like a fountain all over my grandmother.

Virtually every family has similar stories to tell. Although my grandmother is not sitting at the table any more, she is definitely with us every time we gather as a family. So if you're wondering whether or not to celebrate this Holiday Season, I say definitely. You'll never forget the experience, and more than likely, you'll establish a new family tradition that will make all holidays to follow even more special.

Aunty's Funeral

As a funeral director, I'm often approached by friends for advice on whether or not they should take their children to a funeral. The following is an email I sent to a friend in response to her question as to whether it was proper to take her four year old son to her aunt's funeral.

I think it's smart that you're taking your son to the funeral. It gives him an opportunity to experience death without emotional attachment, which doesn't really affect his life.

As I said before, explain to him what he can expect to see. The body lying in the casket, the people, etc. Tell him there may be some sad people because they loved her and they're going to miss her. If he asks why they'll miss her, tell him because her body is dead, and her spirit went to Heaven to be with God. Even though she is in a very good place, they will miss her.

If he asks about death, tell him death is when your body breaks, just like toys break, and your spirit goes to Heaven to be with God. Everyone has a spirit and when their body breaks, they don't need their body any more and their spirit goes to Heaven. Heaven is a wonderful place.

Just answer his questions. You don't need to volunteer information. He will probably go as deep as he is capable of. Don't be afraid to say you don't know if you don't know, or you think it's something that would disturb him.

Bring some coloring books and stuff to keep him occupied. If he doesn't want to go in and see her, that's OK. Just ask the funeral director if there's a place to take him where he can color etc.

Now, I feel that it is helpful to expose children to death at an early age. Children fear what they don't know. By keeping them away, they assume that whatever funerals are, they must be bad if Mommy and Daddy are keeping them away. However, it is always best to give your child the option of whether or not to attend a funeral. Forcing a child to view a dead body is just as bad if not worse than preventing them from seeing it.

I was 11 years old when my grandfather died. My parents did not let me go to the funeral. I was only allowed to attend the church service. Thirty-five years later, I'm still sorry I missed seeing him one last time, especially since he died unexpectedly.

Death is an inevitable part of life. Funerals are our way to grieve the dead as a community. Children are beloved members of our family, and they need an opportunity to grieve as well.

Emotionally Involved

I started this post back in September, but I couldn't think of a good ending, so I left it unfinished and didn't post it. I'm really not that thrilled with the way I ended it, but even after three months, the perfect conclusion eludes me, so I ended abruptly. It made me think that sometimes, whether with a story or in life, a good ending just isn't meant to be, but even a bad ending is better than none at all.

Yesterday morning I buried a woman I have known my entire life. I was just talking to her a week or so ago. Every time I saw her in recent years, she always said I was going to take care of her when she died. I had a hard time dealing with that thought intellectually, because losing someone you've know your entire life doesn't seem real. Now it does.

She was 89 years old, which means she was about my age when I first met her as a very young boy. Her and her husband lived right next door along with their two daughters, who are about 13-15 years older than me, so they were not around very long before they went to college, and it has been many years since I've seen them.

The girls came in to make the funeral arrangements. We talked about their mom for quite a while. It was difficult switching between the grieving friend and funeral director roles, but I somehow got through it. When they left, they both gave me a big tearful hug and said they were grateful to be among friends.

It just so happens that many of her relatives, nieces, nephews, bothers, etc., lived in our neighborhood as well, so I know the whole extended family very well. It was both a wonderful and sad experience at the same time.

Situational Awareness

After days of preparation and coordination, the morning of the funeral is "Gametime" for the funeral director. It isn't Hollywood where the director can say "Cut" and start over. You only get one shot to get it right.

There are so many variables to manage and direct that absolute situational awareness is a must. At any given time, there are family members, pall bearers, clergy, workers and caskets to direct to the correct place at the exact time they need to be there. Getting a fifty car funeral 35 miles through unknown traffic conditions to be standing at the back of the church at exactly the time the mass is supposed to start is a task of monumental proportions, yet the vast majority of funeral directos routinely pull it off without a hitch.

I think I made my point that a funeral director needs to be intimately aware of the surroundings to be successful. That being said, this example of complete and utter lack of situational awareness I witnessed and am about to share should astonish you.

I was sitting in a church on a beautiful Saturday morning about to witness one of my dearest friends marry his girlfriend of fourteen years. It was ten minutes before the ceremony. People were being escorted down to their seats. The Best Man was taking his place at the alter with the Groom about to appear. Anyone over the age of seven born on this planet would have known a wedding was about to commence.

That is, everyone but, I'm embarrased to say, a funeral director. At first, I was too stunned to comprehend the situation. I thought to myself, "That's odd, why would a florest bring the flowers ten minutes before a wedding starts." Besides, there are already flowers on the alter, and this piece the guy is placing RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE ALTER doesn't match the rest. What I didn't know at the time was that this particular floral arrangement had a ribbon placed neatly on the front that bore the words "Father/Uncle". The music soon started and I thought nothing of the flowers until after the mass.

After the beautiful and emotional ceremony, as I made my way out of the church, I noticed a funeral director I know standing in the vestibule right next to the guy who placed the flowers RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE ALTER ten minutes before the wedding started. Evidently, someone's Father/Uncle was about to be buried from this church in about thirty minutes. The guy was just doing what he was told, and didn't realize the wedding was first. I guess the two photographers flashing cameras, five groomsmen in tuxedos and several hundred people were not enough of a clue. For all I know, that might be standard for funerals in that part of the state.

I've often heard the cliche that, for the groom, the wedding ceremony is essentially his funeral. I guess this particular director took the joke literally.

It's Not My Grandfather's Profession Any More

Modern technology has infiltrated into all aspects of our lives. There is no escaping it. I know that my grandfather, who died in 1974, would not have dreamed of even this computer I am using to write this article.

I've been around funeral service for most of my life, and have been a funeral director for a little over thirteen years. Consequently, I've witnessed the changes. From the cookie cutter funerals of twenty years ago, to the streaming online videos of the services today, the profession has come a long way.

Although I am not a true believer that all of the technology currently being utilized by funeral professionals is legitimate, it was in fact a technological innovation that finally brought me into my family's business.

Cell phones.

Growing up, I remember my grandmother and grandfather always having to be by the phone. I guess even back then, people didn't limit their dying to normal business hours. I could not imagine having to live my life like that. As a result, funeral director was never a thought for me, so I joined the Air Force.

When cell phones came around in the early nineties, I finally reconsidered and came home. I have not been disappointed. As anyone who relies on cellular communications to make their living will tell you, they are a blessing as well as a curse. The same could be said for most of these new innovations.

Another miracle of technology that actually saved me from extreme embarrassment is Google Maps. A month or so ago, I had a funeral at a church in Taunton, MA, which is about thirty miles away. Just as my grandfather would have done with an unfamiliar church, I took a ride by and devised my plan for getting cars in and out. Easy, right?

The morning of the funeral, I discovered that the St. Andrew the Apostle Church I scouted out had consolidated with another church at a different location. Seeing that the people at the church didn't give me that little tidbit of information when I arranged the mass, and we had to leave the funeral home in about twenty minutes, I turned to Google Maps.

Crisis averted. Within five minutes, I had the route to drive as well as a satellite view of the church to plan the ingress and egress. Done. My grandfather would have been screwed.

Some of the new innovations are nice as enhancements to the services. Online Guest Books are helpful to receive condolences from people who live out of state. Unfortunately, they are also being used by the next door neighbor in lieu of going to the wake. Convenient, but there is no substitute for face-to-face.

Overall, I think my grandfather would have approved of some of the new technologies such as Life Tribute Videos as well as some of the personalization options available. Even so, I can picture him telling me not to let all of these new toys get in the way of what a funeral is supposed to be. He would said, "A funeral is a time for the community to gather together to grieve the loss of one of their own, and to celebrate that life in order to help the family and friends left behind work through the pain."

Pa, I couldn't agree with you more.

Mother's Day

I picked up the newspaper this morning and turned to the obituary section as I normally do. Being that today is Mother's Day, there were two pages of "In Memoriam Mother's Day Tributes". These small memorials consist of a picture and a short verse, usually a poem, written by the children of the deceased mom.

As a funeral director, I spend a good portion of my time sitting across the table from bereaved families trying to deal with the loss of their mother or father. Almost without exception, the death of the mother is harder to take. There is something about the love we receive from our mothers binds their hearts to ours in a way that is different than our fathers.

In our busy lives, it's easy for us to forget to call our mother and tell her that we love her and appreciate all she's done for us, and it is even harder to find the time to go and see her. Mother's Day is the perfect excuse to put our other distractions on hold and spend some quality time with mom.

Believe me, an hour or so spent with mom today either in person or on the phone means far more to her than a small ad in the paper after she is gone.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. I love you.

The Eulogy

Eulogies are very hit or miss. They are either very good or very bad. I can't tell you how many bad ones I've sat through over the years. In my opinion, a bad eulogy is one that is all about the person doing the eulogizing and not the deceased. More often than not, that's how they go. Another category of bad eulogies are what I refer to as the "Meatball Eulogy". As you can imagine, a "Meatball Eulogy" revolves around what a good cook the person was, and how they made the best meatballs. I'm not kidding. A good 50% of all eulogies I've heard center on the making of meatballs.

A good eulogy is like finding a diamond in the rough. Every now and then, a person perfectly captures the essence of their departed loved one in a profound and loving way. It's about the love they shared and the lessons they taught that made the lives of others richer, and the world they lived in better. It's hard to do, believe me, but when it's done correctly, it's inspiring.

I heard such a eulogy this morning. It started off a little rough, but it built into a wonderful testament to a life well-lived. As I sat there, I couldn't help but think that if my daughter could say about me the things this woman said about her father, I would have truly lived a good and blessed life.

I've got a lot of work to do.

Burial Rites

Another benefit to being in this profession is the ability to witness many different burial rites. The difference between Eastern Orthodox Catholics and Roman Catholics, for example, is significant. Or should I say, seems significant, since the Eastern Rite is usually conducted in the native language of the church such as Greek, Russian, or Armenian.

The Roman Catholic Burial Mass, of which I am most familiar, is generally an upbeat pep talk designed to offer prayers to lift the soul of the departed to Heaven and to ease the sorrow of the ones left behind. Uplifting songs such as "On Eagles Wings", "How Great Thou Art" and "All I Ask of You" are sung at almost every mass. Every now and then, a family will force me to ask for a non-religious song, which I know will only lead to my being ridiculed by whichever priest I make the request. Songs such as "Knockin on Heaven's Door" by Guns N' Roses or "My Way" by Frank Sinatra are destined to be turned down.

In addition to the nice music, the liturgy, or readings, are full of hope and comfort. The priests, who wear white by the way, generally do a nice job in conveying a positive message. It's as if admission into heaven is a foregone conclusion, and these prayers are just a formality.

The Eastern Rite Mass seems very morbid and dreary in comparison. Again, I'm only speculating because I, and seemingly everyone else in the church, can't understand a word of it. The priests wear long black robes and the alters are usually covered up. The music sounds somber and serious. It reminds me of a 16th century requiem in its power and beauty. The atmosphere inside the church conveys the feeling that this is for real, and the centuries of tradition reverberates in every deep sounding chant of the priest.

Guitar strumming, "Let There Be Peace On Earth" singing musicians definitely need not apply.

From what I know, the liturgy of the Eastern Rite is geared toward asking for forgiveness of whatever sins were committed during life. They seem to take Judgment Day much more seriously than their counterparts in Rome.

The bottom line is that dealing with death is extremely difficult. I strongly believe that during this time of grief and turmoil, it is vital to have some sort of tradition to fall back on in order to put some structure, and more importantly, meaning into it all.

Funeral Rites, be they Christian, Buddhist, Muslim or whatever, give us that strength to properly bury our dead and help us move on with our lives.

I wonder if the priest will allow "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin to be played in church during my funeral? I'm going to have my family insist that the funeral director ask.

I wish I could see the look on his or her face!

Urban Legend

Being as I've been around the funeral business for much of my life, I've come across many people who have relatives, or friends of relatives, who have also worked in the funeral business, usually in a menial capacity such as car washer or pall bearer. Inevitably, these people I come in contact with relay a story to me, which has been told to them via an uncle or a friend of their father's. The stories are remarkably similar with very few variations.

They usually begin with originator of the story picking up a body with the funeral director or simply just hanging around the funeral home, because of course, they were good friends of the owner. All of a sudden, without so much as an "excuse me", the body sits straight up, scaring the whits out of the poor worker. At this point of the story, the funeral director usually laughs and tells the person that it happens all the time.

Now, as anyone who has made it past 9th grade biology would know, there is ZERO chance of a dead human body sitting straight up as described in these stories. Zero! Of course, I relay that fact knowing full well that the person telling the story would swear on a stack of Bibles that it actually happened, even though he didn't actually see it and only heard the story second or even third hand.

I apologize to those of you reading this blog who have been told by an uncle or the mailman's cousin that this happened to them, and you believed it. It didn't. Trust me. However, please don't let it prevent you from telling it to the next funeral director you meet.

We love hearing it.

Love, Loss and Pain

Many people think funerals are all about caskets and religious services. Receiving lines and eulogies. In my opinion, funerals are all about love. More specifically, they're the beginning of a long and painful journey of dealing with the aftermath of lost love.

St. Paul wrote in his first letter to the Corinthians:

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.

As a funeral director, my biggest challenge is helping people deal with the pain of grief after the loss of a loved one. I can tell you with absolute certainty that the greater the love, the greater the pain. I can also tell you that this pain is very real. The pain of watching a parent or grandparent grow old and start to fail is real because the love is real. The pain of losing a spouse or a child is intense because the roots of love run very deep. Love always perseveres. Love never fails.

The question often asked is "How can the pain be taken away?" The answer is it can't. Because to take the pain away would mean to take away the love. Pain is the price we ultimately pay for love. It is inevitable. Love always perseveres. Love never fails.

The people that handle this grief the best are the ones that do not try to avoid the pain, but embrace it. By embracing it, you're acknowledging the love. Over time, the pain will begin to lessen, not because your love has diminished, but because you've become used to dealing with it. I've seen it time and again.

I'll conclude with a quote from Alfred Tennyson because I believe it says it all.
"I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

What's The Hurry?

For centuries, funeral processions have been the way we honor our dead as we take them to their final resting place. Tradition has it that when a funeral procession passes, we pay our respect by pausing what we are doing and acknowledging the life that just ended as well as our own mortality. There are still a few people out there that subscribe to this philosophy. Unfortunately, there is an ever growing number of people that don't.

I get to see this latter group almost every day. An ever increasing amount of people see funeral processions as nothing more than an inconvenience at best, and in some cases, an outright insult. In any event, the twenty-nine second delay caused by the funeral procession is somehow keeping them from getting somewhere extremely important.

Perhaps they are doctors in a rush to get to the hospital to perform emergency surgery. Maybe they're secret agents with only seconds remaining to defuse a nuclear bomb. I suspect however, that these two scenarios are rare. In most cases, they're simply people in a rush to get to the tanning booth or the store to buy cigarettes.

It's not enough for some people to vent their frustration by giving me the finger or yelling obscenities. Some take drastic action.

I've seen people drive up onto the sidewalk in order to avoid stopping to let a procession pass. Just the other day, I had to stop the procession, get out of the car, and forcefully make some guy pull out of line because he had gotten in between the family limousine and hearse and refused to leave.

My favorite incident happened about ten years ago. We were in a procession traveling on the freeway when I saw in my rear view mirror an old beat up Pontiac trying to pass us at a rate of speed I would have thought impossible for such a car. The only problem was that the lane he was in was about to end. In his mind, I'm sure he thought that old heap had it in her to make it past us before the road ended. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't meant to be. He lost control of the car, spun around about eleven times, and came to a rest in the median. It seemed, as I gleefully rode by and waved to him, that all four tires were flat, and he was wishing he had not been such an ass.

These episodes are becoming far too frequent to the point that motorists riding in the processions are taking notice and relaying their experiences to me. Most are shocked. Many are angry.

In the end, we're all going to have to face the reality of riding in the limousine as we take our loved one to their grave. Even the guy who flipped me off last week will have his turn, and I guarantee that he would not be pleased being on the receiving end of such treatment.

Life is too short to be rushing around all of the time. The next time you're in a hurry and a funeral procession is slowing you down, take that opportunity to pause for a moment and reflect on what is truly important in your life. I'm guessing that whatever you're in a rush to do at that moment isn't even in the top fifty.

The King of Sampson Avenue

Most people I talk to think I have the worst job in the world. Sometimes it is tough, but most of the time, such as today, I would not trade it for any other.

We had a funeral service for an mentally handicapped gentleman who had spent his entire life under the care of others. The past thirty were with the same organization. When I was making the arrangements for this service with a few of the directors of this group, they shared with me some stories about this man. From what they conveyed, I knew he was someone very special to them.

I asked if they expected a large attendance at the service, considering it was not going to be advertised in the newspaper. They informed me that there would be a considerable number of people there. They were right.

At 2 pm, people started to arrive. Honestly, I was surprised by the numbers. There was a large group of fellow residents of the various homes he lived in over the years as well as a great number of caregivers, both past and present.

The funeral home was filled when the service started thirty minutes later. It began with his favorite song. I don't remember the name of the song, but Vince Gill was the artist. Some of his friends were singing along. Under ordinary circumstances, the singing that occurred would be unwelcome, to put it nicely. But in this setting, it was beautiful.

When the song was over, the director of the organization said a few prayers and invited others in the room to come up and share their stories. They referred to him many times as "The King of Sampson Avenue", which is the name of the street he lived on.

I was amazed at the number of people who got up to share a story. Both caregivers and friends came up and relayed how this man touched their lives. The feeling of love that poured out of these people for him was immense. The recurring theme was that he truly loved everyone he came in contact with, and that the feeling was reciprocated by all he met.

As I stood there observing from the back of the room, I couldn't help being overcome with the emotion as it swept through like a giant wave. My eyes welled up beyond my capacity to hold the tears back, and I had to leave. Thank goodness I didn't have to direct anything because, at that point, I don't think I could have.

The service ended with Dean Martin's rendition of "That's Amore", and slowly some of the people started to leave. The somber look that everyone walked in with was gone and replaced by smiles and tears of joy. It was as if all at once, everyone came to the realization that he was finally at peace, and although they'll miss him terribly, he was in a better place.

You see, you don't have to be a well-known politician to have a positive affect on the lives of others. You don't have to be magnate of industry or a famous actor to make the world a better place. Sometimes, all you have to be is the King of Sampson Avenue.

What's In A Name

With the percentage of people considered to be "practicing Catholics" at around 30%, the chances are pretty high that the priest, or celebrant, at the funeral Mass has never met the person in the casket who's soul he is about to spend the next 45 minutes praying for. Add in the fact that there are several places in the liturgy where that person's name needs to be inserted, one could see the intense pressure put on these priests to not screw it up. For example, as the priest looks down at his prayer book, he may come across a line such as, "Brothers and sisters, as we pray for the soul of name, we ask God ..." Pretty scary stuff.

For the most part, it is very rare that a major mistake is made. Sure, there is the occasional mispronunciation, but usually a priest can recover from that. A full-blown gaff, however, is like bad plastic surgery in that it can be both tragic and funny at the same time.

About ten years ago, I witnessed the perfect storm of a name gaff. There was a fill-in priest who happened to be a little crazy. He had this thick Irish accent, which by the way, I learned several years later was fake. He was notorious for being very theatrical and was known to mess up a name from time to time. This particular time was a doozy.

Unfortunately, the nickname of the deceased this day was Bobo, which, believe it or not, is not that uncommon of a name around these parts. It all started out quite normally. After the second Bobo, for some reason still not fully understood to this day, he started calling the guy "Bozo". I'm talking full-blown Shakespearean quality acting with a fake Irish accent thrown in for good measure. He must have said "Bozo" fifteen times. If there had been a rock in that chapel, I would have crawled under it.

Fortunately, Bobo's family was not that offended. I'm sure they still talk about it and laugh every Christmas when they sit around the dinner table.

Like the priest in the chapel on that hot sunny morning, I didn't know Bobo personally, but I can guarantee you, I'll never forget him.

Sit, Stand, Kneel

In the Book of Ecclesiastes, there is a very famous passage that beautifully describes that there is a time for everything in this life. The first two verses are as follows:

A Time for Everything

¹ There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:

² a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot

For those of us raised as Catholics, we know all too well that this logic applies to the Mass. For indeed, there is a time to sit, and a time to stand, a time to kneel, and a time to genuflect. We've had this instilled in us from birth.

Amazingly, this basic liturgical instinct betrays most Catholics when attending a Mass of Christian Burial, aka, Funeral Mass. For some reason, people simply have no idea when to stand, sit and kneel.

Being that this phenomenon is universal, I'm sure an ample amount of time is dedicated at the seminary to help priests better deal with this problem. Most are very good and hide their disdain for the congregation's lack of protocol well.

The common strategy is to incorporate verbiage such as "Please stand as we pray", or, "Please be seated for the readings." Others are more clever and enlist the funeral director to position himself in the front pew to stand, sit and kneel on cue, which I can tell you from experience, is not always successful.

There is one priest in particular, who I witnessed while helping a fellow funeral director in a neighboring state, that either missed this lesson in seminary, or chose to ignore it. He was an older gentleman who became a priest later in life. I'm guessing his first profession was either prison guard or dog trainer based on the way he less than delicately directed his flock.

His tact was to simply blurt out "SIT", "STAND", "KNEEL" at the appropriate time. I've never seen anything like it. It was so odd in fact, that I literally had trouble wrapping my mind around it.

The next time you're at a Funeral Mass, take notice at how the priest directs the congregation to stand, sit and kneel. I think you'll find it interesting. Hopefully this insight will help to bring a smile to your face during a very somber time.

True Love: Luck or Destiny?

One of the great benefits of my job is getting to know, very intimately at times, the families I work with. During our discussions, I'll always ask the widow/widower how long they were married. Now, keep in mind, we're talking about a generation of people who've been through the Great Depression and World War II. People of outstanding character who know what it is to work at something and not give up when the chips are down.

It is not at all uncommon for these marriages to have lasted 50 to 60 years. Two years ago I buried a couple, who died less than a month apart, that were married for 72 years. In fact, at the time, they were the longest living couple on record.

My favorite follow-up question is: "How did you meet? The answers I get are amazing for two reasons. First, the instantaneous glow that emanates from them as they recall the memory of their first date, or how they met, is so obvious to everyone in the room that it's palpable. For a brief time, tears of grief are transformed into tears of joy. At that moment, the healing process has begun. It's truly beautiful to see. Second, and this is equally as interesting, is that more often than one might think, the initial meeting was completely by chance. A common response is: "Oh, my friend dragged me to a USO dance I really didn't want to go to. We fell in love as soon as we saw each other and were married six months later." The frequency of these occurrences is such that I do not believe them to be coincidence.

Fifty or sixty years later, that chance meeting has left a legacy of five children, seventeen grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. Amazing!

The question remains. Is true love luck or destiny? From where I'm sitting as an observer of countless lives lived, I have to say it's a little of both. Destiny is a funny thing. Not all of us are destined to find true love. For those who do, luck almost certainly has a hand in it.

Tipping Point

In a few hours, I will officially be 46 years of age. Given the fact that I plan on living, or should I say would like to live, God willing, on this planet until I am 90 years old, that means I have passed the half-way point of my life. The tipping point, so to speak.
Over the past dozen or so years, I've buried over 1500 people. Some of them were relatives of mine. Many were friends, or former teachers and coaches. Most I never knew. Some were very old and welcomed death with open arms, and some were just beginning their journey. Some left behind a legacy of children and grandchildren, while others died completely alone, their bloodline ended. Regardless of the circumstances, I've found that without exception, for better or worse, everyone leaves their mark on this world. Everyone leaves behind a story. I'll be forever grateful to the families I've worked with who shared these tales with me.
Adventures in Undertaking will share some of these stories. The names and the places will be changed to protect privacy. I'll also share with you some of the humorous behind the scenes events that happen on almost every funeral. I've spent the first half of my life wanting to share some of these stories. Now that I've reached my tipping point, I better start.