Late Spring 2008

 

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A Day At the Office

(Sent anonymously by a reader)

A few days ago, following an autopsy, I picked up and did the preparation on a beautiful one-year-old little girl.  Not liking this type of situation in the first place, I  tried desperately to occupy my mind with other thoughts on the way back to the mortuary from the hospital. 

The first thing that I did after returning to the mortuary was to call the family, as I always do.  I received the vital information that I needed and then came the hard part, permission to embalm.  I thought that it went quite well until the mother gave me the crushing blow of  “Don’t hurt her.”  I was already on the brink of tears and that hit me like a tidal wave.  Now, I know I can’t “hurt her,” but this was her mother’s way of saying be careful with my little girl.

The preparation went well considering I was wiping tears out of my eyes the whole time.  The dressing, cosmetics and casketing were easy, the little girl looked like a doll.  Her hair was coal black and her dress was white lace.  Still an emotional wreck, I called the family to let them know that the little girl was ready and that they were welcome to come see her.

As time went by, I composed myself in preparation to greet the family that I had yet to meet face-to-face.   Finally they arrived and things went well for a little while.  The family was very pleased with the outcome of how the little girl looked.  I felt that the family, or at least the mother, had obviously heard that an autopsy usually leads to a closed casket or some other horror tale.  Knowing the family was pleased, I was pleased, and feeling much better about this situation. 

While the family stood at the casket admiring the little girl, in walks her five-year-old big sister.  She walks up to the casket, looks over in the casket and says, “When you get better, we’ll go out and play, and you can play with the new doll since you’ve been sick.”  I was devastated at the girl’s sincerity and willingness to share, as was half the family.  It hit my heart like a hammer. 

Go home and hug your kids, regardless of their age.  The innocence and sincerity they possess is priceless.  Our children are priceless no matter how old they are.

 

 

 

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