12/20/2008
I was preparing a lady for her burial the other day in the clothes she had set out for that purpose. Her husband had passed away years ago, and she didn't have any children or close relatives. In fact, she was buried without a service beforehand, as was her wish. As I placed her coat on her, I noticed that there was something in the pocket. It was a letter to her husband, written on the back of an old faded black and white photo from their wedding day over 60 years ago. They were dressed as people often dressed for their weddings just after the war, when few could afford a wedding dress or fancy service. Her husband wore a dark suit and she wore a gray one with large flowers in her hair. In a cheerful tone, she told him how she looked forward to seeing him again, to being together to laugh and listen to music together once more. She told him that only God and the two of them knew how deeply they loved one another.
I was preparing a lady for her burial the other day in the clothes she had set out for that purpose. Her husband had passed away years ago, and she didn't have any children or close relatives. In fact, she was buried without a service beforehand, as was her wish. As I placed her coat on her, I noticed that there was something in the pocket. It was a letter to her husband, written on the back of an old faded black and white photo from their wedding day over 60 years ago. They were dressed as people often dressed for their weddings just after the war, when few could afford a wedding dress or fancy service. Her husband wore a dark suit and she wore a gray one with large flowers in her hair. In a cheerful tone, she told him how she looked forward to seeing him again, to being together to laugh and listen to music together once more. She told him that only God and the two of them knew how deeply they loved one another. Sometimes I feel very lucky to be an undertaker. The hours are terrible, but I bet rock stars and senators don't get to find notes like that at their jobs.
