For some years now I’ve considered forensic science as an alternative career field to get into. Realistically at my age, with my stress level, a consideration is probably, all it will ever be. What I may have an easier time getting into, is, the morgue. Well I guess we all are going to pass through there at some point, but I’m actually talking about going there alive, as an employee of some sort.
I’m not afraid of the dead, as gruesome as some deaths can be, it’s a beautiful thing when you think about it. There you go thinking I have serial killer tendencies, keep reading, I’ll clear it up, I promise.
Death when it occurs, leaves people most vulnerable, the purest they’ve probably ever been since birth. No add ons, no untruths, nothing left behind except, a body, a lifeless body. Unable to tell stories, or give hapless explanations, leaving only memories, good and bad hopefully more good than bad.
I love funerals, isn’t that morbid? I mean I feel sad that love ones move on and leave us here to worry about all the things that may come if Donald Trump becomes president. Despite the grief that we the survivors feel, death brings a certain type of peace.
I remember the first funeral I went to. I was a toddler and yes the memories I have are my own, not stories I’ve heard. My cousin Michelle died, we were the same age, it was simply awful. Michelle looked like sleeping toddlers do, but her mom was, inconsolable. I felt sad because her mom was sad, but even then I wasn’t afraid.
Then as a child, couple grandparents and then a friend. I was 5 when my friend Susan died, she was hit by a car. We missed Susan at school, and again she looked like sleeping children do in her pretty blue dress. Well my memory says it was blue, or maybe a blue hair tie. But again, I wasn’t afraid, I wondered who did her hair for the last time and if she missed us like we did her.
I don’t know what about the dead and death gives me reassurance and in some ways hope. I like the idea of having those final connections with the dead, overseeing their final “get ready” moments. In some cases it maybe giving dignity to the undeserving and love to person who society says should be hated.
People may not view death as I do, but I hope those who struggle with coping take comfort in knowing that a possible after life awaits us all, and maybe our dear loved ones will be waiting for us as well.
I drafted this blog 6 weeks ago, and never posted, now it seems right. To you Ali and Kurt in your time of sorrow. Stay strong.