Plan For Your Future

Although the majority of my readers are my friends or people I actually know in real life it's still probably best to point out that I am a licensed funeral director/undertaker/mortician/embalmer/whatever the kids are calling it these days.  I have been working in this industry for 16 years now and luckily for me I can honestly state that I still enjoy my career/job overall.  Sure I have down days but who doesn't? 

Saw this on Facebook today and thought how appropriate!

Anyway, the point of me stating that is because I'm going to do a tiny PR post about the benefits of pre-arranging your funeral and then I'll finish with a funny example of a pre-arrangement that I've encountered. 

I've borrowed a blurb from my company's website on the benefits of planning your funeral arrangements ahead of time. 

"No one wants to think about their death any sooner than they must, but planning your funeral and cemetery services in advance, called “preplanning” or “prearranging,” is a responsible, caring act that can reduce stress for your grieving loved ones. It’s easy to understand how making decisions now about your final arrangements can help assure those left behind that your wishes are being honoured.

• Take responsibility for your own arrangements.
• Eliminate guesswork for your family.
• Personalize your service.
• Avoid emotional over spending.
• Find the value and quality you want.
• Lock in today's prices.

Whether you simply want to ensure that your wishes are carried out, or you want to protect your family from making difficult decisions at a time of loss, planning your final arrangements in advance is an important responsibility, and one of the greatest gifts you can give your loved ones."
 

There, now that that is out of the way and I feel like I've done my good deed for the day on to a fun pre-arrangement that I've come across in my 16 years of service.   Every funeral is different because every life and every family is different.  I think that statement alone is what makes me still enjoy my job after so many years.  Nothing is ever truly the same twice.

People always suggest to me that I should write a book about all the interesting, crazy, fun, unique things I've encountered in my time.  And they're right, I probably should.  But I'm not going to.  Besides, there are a lot of books written by Funeral Director's about interesting stuff that happens on the job day in and day out already, so why bother?  There have been some funny and true to life TV shows out there as well.  For now though, here's a fun story for you.  All names, of course, have been changed to protect the innocent.  I'm going to copy verbatim otherwise what we have on file for said person.

Dr. Virginia Mable Smith (fake name, just reminding you! Oh and by the way, she's not really a doctor, but that's the title she has given herself.  Maybe she likes the ring of that versus Mrs. or Ms.)

Cremated, gravesite opened and re-opened (Huh?  How many times do we need to open this thing?) of Mable Virgina Smith, Death-Valley Life Cemetery, City of Somewhere.  I am to be buried with the following items:

• Card parliament building (I don't have a clue what this is and I've never heard of it.  Perhaps her old age security-social insurance card with a picture of the Canadian parliament buildings on it?)
• My kids pictures (completely normal)
• 6 grand children (I'm going to hazard a guess that the parents of these 6 grandchildren won't support this idea!  Just a hunch.)
• The necklace I made (Now I know I can take my crafts with me too!)
• My purse strap and junk earrings I wear all the time (I can't get over the request for the purse strap only.  I'd love to know the thought process behind that.  And thank goodness she wants her junk earrings, since they're junk anyway I'm sure her family won't mind parting with them.)
• Bible (Legit, that's pretty normal.)
• Christmas card (Any particular card in mind?  Is this a card she received?  One she made?  A blank one?  So vague.)
• Divorce papers (I'm a staunch supporter of this one!  hahaha)
• Final Decree (Probably not the most logical place for your final Will and Testament, but what do I know?)

And my father is to be moved out of that grave site first.   Mother, although already dead still beckons to me - He tortured her and beat her, she wants him to kindly be removed.  Mother and I will be at rest with eternal peace together forever, without him.  (While the historical information behind that statement saddens me, I find it interesting that her mother continues to haunt her to have him removed, kindly too!  I mean really, why be kind about it at this point?  Just yank those cremated remains outta there!  And for the love of God, why did she bury her mother beside him in the 1st place?)

I was adopted and my birth name is Darla Mary White (I hate that name).  I did a legal name change with a lawyer and Virginia Mable Smith is rightfully mine.  (Well she paid good money for that name change, so rightfully so!)

No autopsy, keep your f*cking hands off me or I will sue you (I'd be interested to see how.) or my kids will.  (Oh, that's how.)  And I will haunt you forever.  (That's enough of a deterant.)

These are the pending lawsuits I have.  If I don't sue you before I die, my children have been left instructions to sue you all.  You will not be free of me when I die. 

Bell telephone  (Who doesn't want to sue Bell?)
Creek Developments 
Ex husband  (If I thought I could benefit from this I might follow suit.)
Police
Government   (How does one sue the government?  I'd like to know.)
4th Avenue  (A street?  She's suing a street?!?) 

And there you go ladies and germs, a sample of a pre-arrangment to get your ideas flowing.  So put your thinking caps on and give some thought to your final wishes.  It will make things so much easier and clearer for your children.  There won't be any confusion over who they are supposed to be suing.   And, you wouldn't want to overlook anything now would you? 

Sketchbook Comics and Games

I have an older brother.  He's two years older than me.  He is not really anything like me.  Growing up we were extremely different, probably still are.  He was what the kids these days call a 'straight edge' which sure made things difficult for me once I hit my teens years.  I didn't have the luxury of having a older sibling break my parents in with typical teenage shenanigans.  He had his select group of friends, he liked to play fantasy games (D&D) and tinker on the computer (keep in mind most homes didn't have personal computers at this time, but my brother did and he always kept the damn thing password protected, much to my chagrin).  The one hobby or past time he partook/partakes in that could easily sum my brother up for me is comics.  He was a comic nerd in the purest definition.  They were his passion (I think).

My brother would make weekly trips to the comic store, he knew when any new editions were coming out, he categorized the comics he had and kept them in baggies with cardboard sleeves so they wouldn't bend.  We always had to be uber careful whenever we walked in his room out of fear of touching one of his precious 'booklets'.   He had favourite artists and also did his own renderings and drawings (that were pretty fantastic if I remember correctly).  He collected comic related toys and if he doesn't anymore then that's unfortunate because I keep buying him shit.  Point is, my whole life my brother has been a total comic guy.  Oh sure he has other interests, but if you asked me to think of one thing that describes my brother then I'd immediately say, 'comics'.

So it hasn't come as a huge surprise to me to find out recently that he's this close to opening the doors to his very own comic shop in the region here.  This has been an ongoing dream/goal/aspiration for years now.  He and a partner have killed many hours discussing the possibility and searching out locations.  After some failed attempts, they've finally managed to lock down a location, complete a proper business plan, get financial backing, figure out the staffing requirements, prep the store front and secure their inventory.   Maybe there's something to that saying, 'It's all about the timing.'  Maybe it just wasn't meant to be until now.  Regardless, I'm extremely proud of him and his chance to live out a dream.  I'm turning into a braggart about my brother.  He's come a long way from that annoying kid who picked on me, in more ways than just this store opening.

They've settled on the name Sketchbook Comics and will have a store in the Cats Caboose/Dollarama plaza on Glenridge Ave. in St. Catharines.  They've created a new Facebook page to introduce fellow comic nerds (don't worry, nerds are in right now) to the Niagara Region's new comic supplier.  They are also tackling an online store as well for those who aren't within driving distance.    So if you're into comics and prefer to buy that stuff from fellow comic fans then you've found your guys.  They know a lot of useless really important information about the comic world or if you just want someone to talk to about all things superhero then this will be the place for you.  And most importantly you'll be helping to fulfill a couple guys dreams. 

Congratulations to my brother, Geoff and his partner and friend Joel.  I wish you all the best in your future endeavor and hope you find great fulfillment and success.  Much love. 

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Every now and again someone I know does something worthy of me singing their praises on my blog.  Today I thought I'd mention something I think is priceless (so I guess it's good that it's free financially as well).

I met a woman by the name of Rachel and her best friend Denise a couple years ago when I had the honour and privilege of helping a family work through one of the hardest things possible...the death of their child.   Rachel knew the parents personally, so when they called and asked her to help she obliged.  The situation I'm talking about involved a 3 year old so it was not the 'norm' for Rachel and Denise but she still stepped up to the plate. 

Rachel is an area coordinator and photographer and Denise is a photographer for a non-profit organization called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep (NILMDTS).  NILMDTS is a group of volunteer trade/experienced photographers who donate their time and equipment to take remembrance photos for families suffering the death of a baby and provide heirloom pictures of the child. 

Many times walking away for the final time proves to be the hardest part for a bereaved parent.  They are trying to prolong the inevitable and fear they'll forget the uniqueness of the little toes or the peaceful look on that tiny face.  They are trying with all of their power to burn the appearance of their son or daughter into their brain to sustain them until they themselves die.  NILMDTS takes that fear away from a parent and allows them to just sit and enjoy those precious moments with their child.

People tell me all the time, it takes someone special to do my job and I suppose in a way they are correct but I truly believe it takes someone special, like Rachel and Denise, to provide this priceless gift to a parent who has had their world shattered and their dreams crushed.    The pictures are tastefully done and capture the essence of the little babies.  So while it's not the same as holding their child or having the baby as part of their day to day chaos, they will forever have pictures of the child who cannot sit at the dinner table with them or the child they won't walk to school on the first day.  They will at least have these photos.  And that's something to show the world that this baby existed and is real to someone. 

So I'm proud to say I know these two ladies even if fleetingly.  I'm grateful to know they exist out there and that I can recommend them to any grieving parent of a newborn without hesitation.  NILMDTS is a respected organization and should be commended for the gifts they are giving people.  The services are free and each family is provided with a CD of all the photos taken at no charge.  The parents can then select their favourites and print the photos themselves, or have them enlarged and framed at their own convenience with no pressure.   And since NILMDTS is a not for profit organization they can always use more volunteers.  So if you are a photographer and think you might like to make a person's life a little brighter at their darkest time reach out and contact Rachel or NILMDTS.  This organization is holding strong in Canada and throughout the USA so even if you aren't in my area you can find a local branch through their website. 

This is a link to an article that ran in a local newspaper in our area this week. 

It's not easy to work through the loss of a child no matter what age, so anything out there that can help ease that suffering is a blessing in my eyes.  I wish more bereaved parents were aware of this organization and I wish more medical professionals saw the value in it enough to pass the information along to a grieving family. 

Thank you Rachel, Denise and all the other countless volunteers who work diligently with grace and respect to assist these families at their darkest times.  You truly are angels. 

"Happy" Little Kiosk World

Yesterday we got up and moving quite early considering it's one of my last three days of vacation.  I mean, really!  The purpose of our early mission was to head into St. Kit's to turn in Eric's application for his passport!  FINALLY!  You have no idea how happy the idea of being able to freely travel out of my country with my boyfriend makes me.  Doesn't mean we'll do it, or can afford to but we all know just having the option is lovely!  Anywho's that's not the point of this post, just the intro.  The point of the post is to pose the question: 

What the hell happened to customer service? 

 Am I the only one who still bends over backwards to offer customer service even when I want to stab myself in the eye with a fork?  Is poor customer interaction a requisite for maintaining a job with the Canadian Government?  Do they offer courses in their training period on how to be a douchebag without really even trying? 

I get the fact that it's hard to be pleasant all the time when you hate your job.  But really, a government job doesn't take too much out of you as there is rarely any physical exursion.  As a worker you get every holiday off, decent pay with benefits, there is rarely any forced overtime, you have sweet, sweet hours of business (like Monday to Friday and daytime hours).  I mean, Christ, I might even be willing to give up my much loved career for a government position.   This known phenomenon about government employees has been around for so long that people just expect it and actually dread having to do anything at a building that says Service Canada or Service Ontario.  What really burns my butt?  Their little makeshift signs that let all of US know that they will not tolerate abusive tones or attitude.   WHAT????  I think next time I go in, I'll have one of those attached to my shirt like I'm running a marathon. 

I guess my shtick is, if you hate it and can't be civil or at least master the art of faking it maybe you should find something that floats your boat.  There are a kajillion people who would kill someone for a government job - the security and perks.  Life is simply too short to stick it out doing something you hate to the point of making an innocent bystander miserable.    Find something that makes you happy.  You should work to live, not live to work and since it's clear you can think of better places to be maybe you should investigate that further. 

Limits, where do we draw the line?

I wasn't sure what I was going to write about today but then I read something in our local newspaper that kind of set a fire in my gut (and not in a good way).  I'm struggling with how to write this without coming across as a complete douche with no feelings (of which I am not) and without it just being a bunch of ramblings while I try to get all my thoughts and feelings on the subject out before I lose them.

I'll recap what the article was about:
A man who has been living with an illness for the last 4 years died this past weekend.  Because of his  illness he was living on a disability pension.  His common law wife was listed as a dependant on his case file (which says to me that she, herself, does not work).  When he passed away it was assumed that the Regional Municipality would fund his funeral expenses and it was a surprise when he didn't qualify.  The reason he did not qualify is because he owns a home as was published in the article.  (Side note:  Now I have experience enough in this field to know that if the home was in BOTH of their names, they would not force the sale of the house to pay for funeral expenses and he would have been approved, so I trust the home is only in the deceased's name.)  The idea behind him being declined is that the common law wife, who is now considered single since she's not a widow as they weren't married, can sell the home, OR if the home has been left to her, she now has equity and can approach a bank about taking a loan out against the house.  This is a highly probable speculation on my part, because those facts were never reported in the article nor was an attempt made to understand more about why the deceased was declined.  All the media has done is basically allowed this woman a venue to attack a working system that is in place to assist those who truly need the financial help to have a dignified funeral.  The newspaper also approached the funeral home that the family selected to get their side of the story and, in my opinion, try to lay some onus here.  However, it is said in the article that the funeral director/owner has made numerous attempts to arrange a meeting with the common law spouse to finalize arrangements and discuss her options (yes, there are always options) but they have not been successful with getting her to commit to anything.  She has however, posted a sign on her front lawn that says "My husband is dead.  Please help me bury him."   The article does not suggest in any way that she, herself, has taken any responsibility or made any attempts to try to rectify this situation...well except to call the newspapers. 

At the time this article went to print the funeral home has made a goodwill gesture to set a visiting period for the family and friends and to proceed with the burial without a financial committment from anyone!   I call complete and utter BULLSHIT on this whole situation.  And now this is where I'm probably going to come off looking and sounding like a douche. 

Why is it up to the funeral home owner to foot the bill on this???  It is most definately not his responsibility.  He has a building to maintain and a staff to pay and expenses to look after.  Why should he take on the onus and be out of pocket?  Why does the responsibility lie with him to chase down avenues to be paid?  Funeral services is a business whether people like to acknowledge that or not.  Privately owned or corporately owned, it's a business.  It is not a 'Not for Profit' charity.   The agreement between the Region and the local funeral homes is in place to assist those that genuinely need it.  (I am the FIRST person to suggest to a low income family that this might be the option to take for them so they aren't putting themselves under more stress then they are already facing.)  I also understand that this man, in a sense, needs it, however when you have assets like a HOME it's really hard to for me to feel like you are destitute.  If your home has no equity in it, is that our fault?  Or more importantly, the funeral home's fault?  If you have poor credit or no credit and can't get the money from a bank to pay for the funeral is this the funeral home's fault?  If you didn't plan for this inevitable moment in your life by making sure you have life insurance or that your affairs (like the above house ownership situation) were in proper order or you pre-arranged and pre-funded your own funeral then why does the resposibility fall to the funeral home?  Your lifestyle and situation has nothing to do with the funeral directors.  Funeral homes already have an agreement in place with the Region where we take a large cut in our service charges to accomodate those who need it and to accomodate the tax payers wallets (including myself).  On another side note, I just want to mention that utility companies as well as many others businesses do NOT subsidize their charges for those people on special income.  Funeral homes (as a collective group) decided to subsidize their fees so that everyone would be able to have a dignified funeral if they chose to.  Yet it always feels like it's never enough. 

I'm getting fed up with people feeling that they are entitled to goods and services simply because they can't pay for them. And even when they get those freebies, they want and expect more.  They don't appreciate what they are getting.   I don't want to stereotype here but it seems to be a case where those who are on assistance feel they should be privy to what the rest of us work very hard to achieve.  An entitlement of sorts.  I once sat with a woman who was making arrangements to bury her mother with the help of the Region and felt if was well within her rights to demand money (for a submarine sandwich and a pack of smokes) from the funeral home and "we could just add it to our account with the Region".  After I picked my mouth up off the ground and was able to tell her no, I then had to deal with a barrage of insults.  I have also had people tell me they've buried everyone in their family at our funeral home through the Region and then jokingly suggest that they should get a discount.  Well since we already give a very large discount to the Region and this person has never had to pay a cent I wonder if she feels we should be cutting her a cheque for crying out loud! 

I apologize to those who are on the system because they have no other choice.  I wish for things to be better for you.  I truly do.  I also apologize to those who use the system to get a leg up and better their lives.  That's what it's there for and my venting is not directed at you.   However, those select, fine examples mentioned above have tainted my opinion over the years.   And you have no idea how sorry I am for that.   In more ways than you can imagine.  I liked believing the best in everyone.  I liked believing people were only on assistance because they had no other options.  This is simply not the case anymore. 

People talk about our kids and how we are creating an entitled generation.  They want, want, want and expect, expect, expect, but trust me, this group of people already exists.  I feel bad for the funeral home that was mentioned in this article.  They don't want to be the centre of a media lynching, but they are doing what all funeral director's are trained to do - Trying to deal with a lousy situation with compassion and grace.  They are trying to do the right thing, but at what cost?  Their cost, and that's simply just not right, or fair. 

I feel like people just don't appreciate what they have and what they are given.  Maybe if we got a mere thank you from time to time for what we are contributing it would be easier for me to swallow.  I don't expect accolades.  We all do what we need to do to help.  But this view of entitlement is really beginning to leave a sour taste in my mouth.

Picking Your Battles

My career path has been bitter sweet.  After 16 years of heartaches and triumphs you know what my job has taught me?  It's taught me to pick my battles.   Pick the fights that are worth fighting for and let the little stuff just float away.  In a perfect world this would always just be.  But as human beings we are riddled with too many emotions and it's very hard not to let them envelope us some days. 

I have sat across the table from a family that is burying someone far too early, far too many times.  And despite these numerous experiences I will never begin to understand the hopeless feeling a mother must go through when she's picking that last outfit for her child to wear.  For no longer is her child there to tell her for the 10th time that he just simply does NOT wear stripes!  No longer is her daughter there to tell her she's just "so sick of pink - don't you dare bury me in that pink dress.  You liked that dress, not me!"  What thoughts run through a father's mind when he is selecting a casket for his teen aged son?  He's probably thinking this should be a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon and we should be out test driving for his first car.  He should be talking his son out of any yellow car.  Yellow cars are not cool.  He should not picking a matte or gloss stained wooden box.  What do these parents feel when they know in a mere 3 days they will never be able to look their child in the face again?  Do they regret screaming for their kid to get out of their face because he's driving them crazy?  What about the thought of never holding your kid's hand again?  All those times you complained about his sticky fingers touching you...

I know kids do just that, they drive us crazy.  They test their boundaries by testing ours.  They make mistakes as they learn (some extremely stupid ones), and instead of trying to explain to them how terrible the outcome is we turn to the ways we know best, we yell at them.  Sometimes out of fear for them and other times out of exasperation.  Regardless, we can look back and acknowledge that we perhaps could have handled it much better than we did because you know what?  We too make mistakes, probably much more frequently than any of us would like to admit.  Is this how we'd want to be called out on our mistakes? 

So what I've learned in my 15+ years of taking care of those that have gone before us, is that I'll NEVER begin to understand what a parent goes through at the death of their child.  I cannot sympathize, and I cannot empathize.  I just cannot (or will not) begin to imagine.  The only thing I've taken from these horrible, heartbreaking experiences is this:

• You are never old enough for it to be ok to bury your child.  I've buried a woman who was in her mid-70's whose mother, at 94, was still alive.  Her mother wept like her daughter was 10. 
• Wiping pee off a toilet seat for the thousandth time is  also something I've willing to live with and not get angry over even if I just sat in it.  It means my son is home and safe and able to pee on my toilet seat. 
• A messy bedroom is just that, a messy bedroom.  It is something a grieving parent would do anything to have back.  It's a shrine of their child's existence.  And isn't that what doors are for?
• Bereaved parents are some of the strongest people I've ever met.  I still don't know how they walk away from the casket that last time at the cemetery.  Or how they are able to remain upright as they watch the hearse leave with their daughter to go for cremation.  How do they find the strength to walk out of the funeral parlour at 9 p.m. after all of their friends have left and they aren't able to take their child with them?   I'm not sure I'd be able to find the strength to leave him there while I returned to my empty house - A shell of a home. 
• The fighting and power struggles just aren't worth it.  I'm not willing to chance that that is the last conversation I have with my child.  Do not leave a fight as, potentially, your last interaction.  Treat your children how you want and expect them to treat you.  With respect for their feelings and beliefs even if you don't agree.  You can still win the battle, you should just choose to win with grace and decorum. 
• Don't let animosity build up and build up until you resent your child.  Talk to him, help him understand how he is hurting you.  Let him make restitution on his own.  You'll be teaching him valuable lessons. 
• Sometimes material possessions and the importance of these items overshadow the importance of one's child.  Or we stress how important these items are and sometimes forget how to stress how important our children are instead. 
• I know not everyone will have these stories, but I do and so I share these heartbreaking tragedies with my two sons.  My hope is that they will learn from another person's mistake or misfortune (those words don't seem appropriate though) and therefore that person will not have died in vain.  Because if even one (or two) people, like my boys, don't get behind the wheel of car after drinking, or don't try those drugs, or don't swim in unsafe waters, then their death isn't all just loss.    
• I've learned that you should find a moment in every day to hug your kids or compliment them or make them feel useful and loved.  It takes nothing more than a moment.  But they'll remember it forever. 
• If it's not going to kill your child and he's happy then don't fight him on it.  Just because you don't agree with your child's lifestyle choice just be glad they are comfortable in their own skin.  They aren't asking you to fix the worlds problems or views for them, they are just asking you to love them regardless. 
• Pick your battles.  There are definitely some worth 'fighting' for as you want your kids to grow up to be good people.  But make sure the fight is for the right reasons.  There's some valuable lessons in that old saying, "There's no use crying over spilled milk."

So I guess what I'm hoping to convey (to other parents who haven't experienced the profound loss of a child), is to take a moment and try to imagine for that split second how badly those grieving parents want to switch spots with us for even 10 minutes.  Think of how they probably long to be in that same spot we are, where we are huffing and puffing and grinding our teeth and wondering how we are going to get through the day without harming our own offspring (don't lie, you've been there).  Step back before you shout at your kid, even if it's just to give yourself that 10 minutes you need to calm down a bit and let the influx of anger pass through you. 

Our children are our legacy that we will (hopefully) one day leave behind, I understand the need to ensure that our legacy is wonderful and brilliant but at what cost?  I want my kids to love me, there is no doubt.  I want them to remember their childhood not for the tension they felt around me or the hostility in our home, but for the support and laughter they shared with me.  Some days I question myself and wonder if I'm too lenient with them, have I gone so far to the other end of the spectrum because I'm choosing my battles?  But I let those thoughts quickly fade.  I've decided that I don't feel inclined to yell at them a lot because they are good kids and they aren't doing things to require those responses, yet.  I've been lucky.  I hope that what I've chosen to do with my children (because of the lessons I've learned as a result of another's loss of child) is working.  I hope they are hearing the stories and thinking twice.  I hope the lines of communication I have with my boys will always remain open.  I know for sure they will on this end. 

Love your kids and ensure you are able to look back on your own life and love yourself as a parent and a leader because unfortunately in the real world, the opportunity to make changes may be taken from you in a split second. 

Black Cars - Purple Lights

A few years ago, a colleague of mine wrote a piece that has inspired me to write this next post and share it with all you readers. 

I think it's safe to say at some point in our lives we have all encountered a funeral procession.  You know, that long line up of cars moving really slowly, jamming up traffic just to ruin your day?   In the smaller towns we, as a society, tend to still pull over (from time to time) out of respect for the deceased and the family who are grieving and allow the procession to pass us by.  We, as a profession, have tried to make it easier for you, the driver, to spot us coming.  We have donned purple lights on the roof of the lead car, the hearse is a clearly marked vehicle in its own right and we adorn flags on the rest of the cars in the procession. 

The funeral procession has been a long standing tradition.  Pulling over, pausing and allowing the procession to pass is still looked upon as an act of kindness and respect.  I, personally, have taught my children that when a funeral procession passes, we should take time out of our busy day and the clutter that is going on in our own heads and give a moment to that poor family who has recently lost a loved one.  Stopping for a funeral - what a simple concept and yet such a nice gesture.  Unfortunately we are seeing it occur less and less.   Frankly I've seen people cut into an actual procession because they are in a hurry to get no where fast. 

For those readers who don't know me, I am a funeral director.  At this stage of my career I've been honoured to drive that limo, carrying the bereaved family, hundreds, if not thousands, of times to the church and/or cemetery.   I want you to know that every single time they witness a car pulled over to the side of the road or they spot a pedestrian pause for a moment or they notice someone bow their head, or they see a construction worker remove his hard hat or someone make the sign of the cross - they comment on how nice that is.  It never goes unnoticed.  And it is heartwarming to be sitting in the front seat and hear all the comments and appreciation.  It makes me proud of my community and proud that we as a society still engage, even if only occasionally, in this practice. 

So I ask you to give it some thought...  In our fast paced society the funeral industry has resorted to flashing purple lights (yup, we actually have our own colour!) on our vehicles to help draw your attention to the fact that we are moving at a much slower pace than the general flow of traffic.  We want to get everyone to the cemetery without incident. So help us out...take a moment out of your busy life and pause, reflect, pray and if that is not your way...well then at the very least stop and check your text messages (at least your head will be down and it will appear that you care)...allow that funeral to pass respectfully.  And if you are late for a very important date, then you can simply blame us.  One day it will be you in that limousine grateful for the gestures from strangers. 

Be Nice When You're Frustrated.

Tonight Eric, Roan and I went out for dinner.  Huge regrets.  It happens to be Roan's favourite restaurant and both Eric and I really like it.  They have great food and we've never had a problem with service or anything along those lines.  It's always been clean.  The only downfall is that it's in a pretty inconvenient location in this tourist trap of a town.  So tonight had to be the worst experience of customer service I've encountered in a restaurant in years.  I'm really disappointed too because I really like this restaurant and hope it's not a sign of things to come. 

I hesitate in naming the restaurant because this is the first of many visits we've made to it where we were dissatisfied with our treatment.  I'm grateful that this wasn't our first visit or this would be all I had to go on.  We'll frequent this restaurant in the future but probably not again until the autumn season.  I'd rather just avoid all the heavy traffic in that part of the city during the tourist season.  The owner doesn't know that we had already made that decision before we walked into the restaurant.  He knows we're in there often, he recognizes us each time we go in, but this will let him sweat for a while. 

I work in a huge customer service heavy field and I wish more people cut us some slack when we made an error.  (Alas, that's not likely to happen anytime soon.)  For whenever one experiences lousy customer service one soon forgets that one is not perfect, him or herself.  I am quite positive that those who complain have at one point in their lives, but most important to this post, in their jobs made a mistake.  I wish people understood that in my experience when one makes a mistake in their job or in their execution of customer service that they do in fact feel badly about it.  They don't need to be berated or made to feel even more lousy than they do already.  Drawing attention to the lack of service is adequate enough.  Most often one will offer a solution to try to correct the situation or compensate for it, all on their own without the complainer having to ask.  It's those people who are compelled to bank on the situation who piss me off and make me loathe my job some days.  My mind is boggled that someone can judge and treat another human being for being just that, human.  Like I said, there are very few people who work in customer service just to ruin another person's experience or day. 

So next time you experience poor customer service, by all means draw attention to it in hopes to have the behavior corrected but maybe give a little grace will ya?  Maybe that person works two or three jobs to make ends meet and feed their kids, so maybe they are exhausted.  Maybe they have their mind somewhere else and are having a hard time getting it back to the task at hand but don't have the luxury of blowing off a shift to sort their own stuff out.  Maybe they are taking the slack for someone elses bad work habits but because they are the 'frontline' employee, they take the blame.  Who knows the reason, but the odds are it wasn't done maliciously.  So be kind in your complaining.  Please.  You have the right to choose not to go back to that establishment but don't tarnish or badmouth the business and potentially put someone out of job because of an innocent mistake.

Five...Ten...Fifteen...Done.

Every five years since forever, but more important to me, since I was licensed in my field (cause frankly I really don't give a care who went before it existed to me) we have to converge at a big motel in Toronto and spend two days doing seminars and workshops to maintain our licenses.  In reality it's basically just a class reunion, college style.  The lectures are relatively boring and out of the six I have to sit through I might pick up one or two great tips or ideas.  The rest are just daydreaming fodder.  It's the time spent after the lectures that's the most fun for me.  Hanging out with the people I went to college with.  I only keep in touch with a select few, and that was even before the invention of Facebook.  Now I guess I keep in touch with a few additional people than my original few. 

Tomorrow night, I head to the T dot to take in my last college reunion and probably my last slumber party with Gilly-bean.  The Board of Funeral Services has decided to forgo the annual Post Grad festivities in lieu of wickedly awesome online courses (can you see my eyes rolling?).  Like we don't spend enough time in front of computers (quality time spent blogging about this disappointment).  Ho hum. 

So I'll try to remember to bring my camera, as this will be the last time I will see most of these peeps and I'll try not to black out from the booze.  I actually enjoy going to Post Grad even if I feign disinterest.  That's all for pretend.  Cause the cool kids aren't supposed to dig it.  Ya know?  But I do.  Mainly I like to figure out which of my class mates aren't there and really take in the very few who stayed in the profession after 5 years, 10 years and now 15 years.  And the numbers are getting fewer and fewer. 
So here's to another 5 years behind us and me still looking young and spritely.  (Is spritely a word?) 

True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your college class is running the country.

Poor Working Boy

So this morning, Eric, Jon, Ryan and I went for breakfast over to the Egg and I.  Following breakfast while the guys stood outside to smoke I noticed they had a help wanted sign in the window.  Cooks, waitstaff and dishwashers. 

I wandered back inside and ended up correctly speaking to the manager.  I inquired about their means of application, etc.  Of course, I was thinking about a potential job for Gage.  She told me to bring Gage in tomorrow morning to meet her and she'd have him work tomorrow to see if it's something he could handle as it can be a lot of work with only one person. 

The Egg and I is close enough to our house that it wouldn't be an issue for him to ride his bike.  It also wouldn't be a pain for me to drop him at work either (ie. Clifton Hill).  They close at 3 p.m. so no late nights waiting to go pick him up from work and no afterschool shifts to interfere with the abundance of homework he does each night (I really wish there was a rolling the eyes emoticon).  He would work each Saturday and Sunday.  And he'd be out in time to have a nap and still be able to hang with his friends in the evenings. 

So, mama-bear got him the job, let's hope Gagey-bear can hang on to it!

A Letter to a Young Mother

Dear Young Mom:

First, please have the courtesy to come into my place of work and ask us if it is permissable to park in our private lot while you run your errands at the Police Station. 

Second, please change your toddler's shitty diaper in the privacy of your vehicle so those of us with an office window facing that parking space don't have to see you reef them up the crack of his ass to wipe the shit off it. 

Third, please refrain from then throwing said shitty underpants onto our parking lot for us to clean up. 

Those are my three pieces of advice to you dear, young, mom.  But now I'd like to thank you.  First for leaving your windows down so I had the opportunity to leave my office on this beautiful, sunny day and wander out into the parking lot, retrieve said underpants (I am a mom and I'm a funeral director - shitty pants won't deter me) and toss them through your back seat window where they were given a new resting place.  Right in the middle of your son's car seat. 

And my second thank you is for the sheer feeling of satisfaction I got from that experience as well as the second wave of pride I felt watching your face scour the parking lot looking for the missing underwear and then surprisingly finding them right in the very spot you were intending to plant your son's ass. 

Now, knowing someone watched your behaviour the entire time and 'one upped' you, you must be so proud.  I'm frightened for our youth when you are a role model out there.  Next time, don't be douche.

Sincerely,
Me.

Gone in the Blink of an Eye

Today when I got home from work and found my T-4 in my mailbox my reaction was one of shock, delight and surprise.  All because my company got them out early this year and my dear friends, that has NEVER happened.  I even said out loud  and with delight that I was going to do my taxes this weekend!  Yippee!  Then it dawned on me that it was the 29th of February and they actually left it until the very last day possible to get it to me, like ALWAYS.  But further more, what the hell happened to my February and where did it go? 

I'm not gonna lie though, I was pleasantly surprised to see the final salary figure and to learn I made a substantial amount of money more than I had thought.  So another question, what the hell happened to all my money and where did it go?

A little spiritual and physical cleansing.

I forgot to mention...before Christmas I went for a spontaneous Thai Massage with a friend of Eric's.  I hope Sarah doesn't mind that I 'borrowed' some information from her Facebook page to tell you a brief synopsis of what exactly that is. 

It is made up of slow, rhythmic movements that flow from one into another.  Many parts of Sarah's body was used to manipulate mine.  Her hands, elbows, knees, legs, feet, you get the idea.  So if you're touchy about someone really  touching you then maybe it's not your thing.  But you should get past that, because it really is worth it.  Any way, back to what it is.  The massage is made up of many yoga-like moves and stretches.  Depending on your sensitivity, mild, firm or strong touches are applied.  Thai massage blends three elements:  accupuncture, yoga and meditation. 

There are supposedly many physical benefits of Thai Massage too!  Detoxification, immune system boost, increased blood circulation, lowered blood pressure, muscle relaxation, increased flexibility, increased mobility, improved breathing, improved posture, corrected body alignment, improved athletic performance, helps arthritis and back pain, helps tone the body, strengthens the joints, fights disease, prevents illness and alleviates degenerative diseases.  There are also several mental benefits as well but you can find all the information on her webpage. 

So obviously for me to benefit physically and mentally from this type of massage I need to do it on a pretty routine basis.  I've only gone once so far, but I do intend to book another session sooner than later.  It was pretty wild.  I've never done anything like it.  So if you feel like you're missing something physically or spiritually maybe check Sarah and Happy Lotus Thai Massage out!  If you don't like it, fine, but if you love it it might just prove to be the start of a beautiful relationship with yourself (and of course, Sarah).

Houston. Houston. Tomato. Tomato.

Random Facts (at least in Holly's mind):

I am filled with illusions of grandeur.  It is not currently 80 degrees here.  The high today was 63 and clearly I missed it. 

I found myself feeling much more content on an airplane when there was a uniformed pilot sitting in the seat directly in front of me and one sitting in the seat directly behind me. 

Louis C.K. should be way more handsome.  I would then want to sleep with him.  Funny men make me laugh.  And laughing makes me....  It really is a travesty that he isn't better looking.  Probably doesn't help that he reminds me of my brother.  Maybe that's the problem!

Stetsons even run amok in the airport.  It didn't take long to come across my first one. 

Houston airport gave me my luggage right away.  That never happens to me.  Nope, not ever. 

Company credit cards are lame.  What's the point in having one if it isn't going to work!?

I ate dinner alone in a restaurant for the first time in my life.  I never want to do that again!  It turned out NOTHING like a Hollywood movie.  Total let down. 

There are way too many hot, expensive, sleek vehicles in this city that keeps throwing how much money is here in my face.  I want some in my pocket. 

Blockbuster still exists here.  Case in point about the loads of money in this city comment. 

I think I just cost myself $8.  I lifted the mini bottle of JD out of the bar fridge to admire its cuteness.  I think I got charged for it.  I put it back.  It might be too late.  I don't even like JD.

I am, however, enjoying a $3.50 can of gingerale from said fridge.  I'll try to take more than just three sips.

I feel like I'm laying on the back of a fluffy goose.  A smooshy, squishy, fluffy goose.  This bed is amazing (said just like Charlie Day would say it)!

The drive into the downtown core of Houston hit me almost as much as driving into NYC does.  Almost, but not quite.  It was still pretty awesome. 

I'm pretty bummed I forgot the camera.  All this and I haven't even made it to head office where I have to introduce myself to the "front guard".  A guard!  I'm gonna admit, I'm a little excited about this.  In my mind, he is NOT the same as a door man.

Mind? Blown!

I love when someone randomly hands me a blog post. 

Today during a funeral Erin came to me and said, "I think some man just handed me a huge bag of dope."  To which I replied, "WHAT??"

Here's the story:

A man who was dressed in an extremely wrinkled suit (I swear it was balled up in the trunk of his vehicle before he put it on) approached EP with a black canvas zip up bag and asked her to hold on to it while he went into the chapel for the service (an uncommon, but not out of the realm of possibilities, request).  Immediately upon taking it into her care she smelled that old familiar scent and came into my office to have the above conversation.  Following my disbelief I went to the front desk to find the bag and was smacked in the face by the smell of A LOT of weed. 

I moved into the centre office and I (yup, I'm like that) opened said bag to find at least a thousand dollars (street value) of weed broken up into sellable baggies.  Intermingled amongst the weed was Axe body spray and packs of minty gum.  If those were in there to mask the smell they were failing miserably. 

After the funeral we could literally hear him bound down the hall looking for 'his bag'.  At this point I replied, "Your bag is making my back office smell like a grow op!"  To which he apologized.  I asked him how sorry he was a couple of times (trying more so to hint that perhaps he should leave one of those conveniently pre-packaged bags with us to divie up) and then blatantly (after he missed my cues) asking him what the holding fee would be.  He stupidly replied, "I'll never come here again."  To which I replied, "Bullshit, we'll end up burying you.". 

So, he leaves approximately $1000.00 worth of weed with random strangers after bringing it to a funeral for someone close enough that he was asked to be a pallbearer.  And our coach driver is a retired Vice cop with Hamilton P.D. (oh of course I showed him!)  I have to pose the question...is this the dealers first day on the job????

My mind?  Officially BLOWN!

Redundancy

Before I went to Mexico my mom asked me to accompany her to one of her work functions because she didn't really feel up to going alone.  Her boss and offered to upgrade her hotel room to a suite so I could join her and bring Eric and the boys along.  While we went to dinner Eric and Roan went swimming in the hotel pool and did their own thing for dinner.  The suite was alright, and had a fantastic view of the horseshoe falls from our window.  

So I thought it pretty redundant that they felt the need to hand prints of Niagara Falls all over the hotel suite.  I mean you've got the real deal right outside your glass wall for crying out loud.  I mean, I could understand if we didn't have a fallsview room, but...  In my opinion, this is redundancy at its finest.

The picture, not so great, but you get the jist. 

Take a Jerk to Work Day

Just before I went to Mexico it was "Take Your Kid to Work Day" for Gage's school.  I have to admit I have been secretly looking forward to this day for about two years now.  Never really sure what grade they did it in, but knowing it was coming up.  It never crossed my mind that he might want to go to work with his dad instead of me, so the poor kid had no option. 

I guess I love my job and I love my kid and I secretly hoped once he spent a day with me, he'd understand how important my role can be in someone's life.  And maybe that would make him respect me.  Like as a human being and not "the person who gave birth to him so it goes without saying that he is supposed to respect me".   I'm pretty sure my goal was not achieved.  Though I'm not entirely sure because he barely talks of anything of importance like that.  I do, however,  know the really important stuff like what the next pair of shoes are he wants and that I am supposed to be saving 10 thousand dollars to give to him on his 16th birthday so he can put it towards his car.  You know the real important stuff that lets me know he loves me almost half as much as I love him.

Cobra - 1, Job Search - 0

So Eric is finally finished the book!  I know, I know it's very difficult to believe, but this time I think it's true!  So that was as of Thursday.  On Friday he got a job.  Not the job he wants.  A job he is settling for.  But a job with a regular paycheck on a regular payday. 

He had to ask himself if being unemployed but holding strong to his dreams was better than working a menial job with a regular pay.  Which one would crush his emotional being more?  I suggested he take the menial job and continue to look for the job of his dreams.  Only he can determine if he's going to get into a rut and stay there.

I know I'm more optimistic (What, you say?  Not like me, I know) about all of this than he is, but I'm so glad he was only 'unemployed' for a day.  That's exciting.  Especially in today's times.  And just the job search alone can crush one's soul. 

So congratulations honey!!!  You're going to be great in whatever you do!

Cobra on the Move

Eric sent out a bunch of resumes to some job postings this weekend and he scored himself an interview and a 'job testing'. 

The interview he landed was for a landscaping company in the Region.  We looked through their website and were very impressed with the work they have done and he thought he would enjoy spending his days doing that sort of thing.  I particularly liked the idea of him honing those skills and then being able to come home and mimic them in my yard! 

So last night I asked him what he planned on wearing to the interview and he said he was going to ask me what he should wear.  I, of course, said a suit!  As this is a job interview and you never get a second chance to make a first impression.  He disagreed with me but heeded my advice.  Little did I know that not every prospective employer is looking for you to come dressed in a suit.  Hmmp!  Eric told him it was easier to agree with me and wear the suit than to try to convince me otherwise.  Basically he blamed the suit on me.  I'm still standing my ground here. 

Over all it seems the interview went well.  My fingers are crossed for Eric that he is offered the job.  I think he's going stir crazy just sitting at his desk doing the book renderings.  It will be nice for him to get out of the house and do some physical labour and work on the book drawings on the side this time around.  The prospective employer was aware and interested in the idea of Eric working on design drawings for him in the future.  So that's a feather in his cap I think...

The 'job testing' is tomorrow with a guy who does stucco. (I also like the idea of Eric honing his stucco skills because down the road I'd like to redo the siding on my house in cedar board and batan and stucco.  But this isn't about me now is it?)  He's not too sure about the idea of doing stucco day in and day out but if it's offered to him and that's his only option for the time being I think he'll take it and just keep looking.  It sounds like the guy who does this can be difficult or hard to please based on the phone call Eric had with him today.  He thinks the guy he was testing out today is a "f*&king ret#*d" and didn't hesitate to tell Eric that.  You have to wonder what kind of decorum and tact this guy has.  Anyway, I figure either they'll hate each other or love each other.  Could go either way. 

So here's hoping something good comes out of these next few days for Eric.  He sure does look handsome in a suit and tie, but I'm guessing he doesn't want to have to squish into it too frequently.

All over emotions...

When my dad died I asked myself, and was asked by others if I thought I could continue doing what I do for a living or if it would make me mental.  I decided - 1. My experience would make me better at what I currently do, as I will now truly understand what someone is going through, and 2. My dad would be very disappointed in me if I used his death as an excuse to give up a career I still very much loved.  So I'm still here and I was right...it has made me a better person and funeral director. 

Eric pointed out to me a while ago that I was subconsciously pushing my emotions to the back of my mind during the week, and when my emotions overwhelm me it tends to happen on the weekends when I'm not at work.  I think I'm doing what I need to do to survive my work week. 

My dad is always front and centre in my mind when I'm alone.  Be it in my car, just falling asleep, anywhere when I am alone with my thoughts.  I used to dwell on stuff I had no control over or think about inane things when I had this private time, but since April 9th, he is who I think of when it's just me (and him). 

Anyway, this past couple of weeks I've been feeling lousy physically and kind of melancholy.  I had the last week of July off and the boys were with Rob so it was just Eric and I.  We had no real plans and basically just hung around the house.  I read a lot, we played Cribbage, we just chilled.  I was feeling blaise over all.  I couldn't put my finger on what it was but I suspect it was just a lousy week emotionally for me.  I had nothing major to occupy my time and thoughts, so I often found myself thinking about him.  And thinking about him makes me both want to smile and very sad at the same time. 

Eric wants me to go see my doctor about feeling physically ill, but I secretly (though not so much anymore) wonder if my physical ailments aren't a direct cause of my emotional ailments.  (Saying that out loud to anyone would make them want me to talk about my feelings though.  I don't do that so well...)  I don't 'feel' depressed though...but perhaps I've just pushed my feelings so far to the bottom that they are manifesting themselves through my physical being. I don't know. 

Four days after my dad was diagnosed, a woman walked into the funeral home to do her pre-arrangement.  She had been diagnosed with same thing my dad had earlier that morning and she too was given a grave prognosis.  She was the first person I had dealings with, at work, following the blow our family had been dealt and since she too was going through the exact same thing as my own father it was a difficult arrangement and I cried a lot after she left.  She has stuck with me in my mind.  I have spoken to her husband on a couple of occasions following our initial meeting so I have been aware of the steps she has taken and I kind of know where she's currently at in her fight with the big C.  On Friday, she randomly popped into my head and I wondered how she was making out.  I wondered how she was doing mentally, I wondered how her kids took the news, I wondered how her husband was coping.  I smiled and hoped she was doing ok as it's been 4 months since I met her and I still haven't received the call, so that's good news! 

On Saturday a co-worker texted me to tell me she died, early in the morning.  I have never in my 14 years been so affected by the death of a 'stranger'.  My physical ailments seemed to get worse...my mood remained blah.  I met her daughter on Monday at the funeral home and started crying in the hallway while I was talking to her.  I have never done that before.  Yesterday was the four month anniversary of my dad's passing.  Today I buried this woman.  I stood at her grave and I wept.  I wept for her.  I wept for her husband. I wept for her daughters.  I wept for her grandchildren.  I wept for my dad. I wept for me. 

I'm not feeling any peace right now. 

I think about this woman and the horrible things she went through physically and emotionally since I met her in April.  And I wonder...  Was my dad better off?  Was he the lucky one for only getting 12 days?  Were we lucky for not having to watch him suffer any longer than he did?  Or was she the lucky one?  Lucky because she had the time to write all of her family individual letters letting them know how important each of them was to her?  Lucky because they all got to go to Disneyworld together for one last family vacation?  Lucky because last week she got to take her grandchildren to the drive-in to see Cars 2 and the Smurfs movie?  Lucky because she suffered in pain for four extra months physically?  Lucky because she fought her mind for four months longer?  Lucky because of what the cancer did physically to her body?  

I don't know that answer. I do know this. I'm jealous and that makes me selfish.  I'm jealous her husband, daughters and grandsons each have one last letter.  I was jealous looking at their family photos from Disneyworld.  But I was grateful that my father didn't go through the physical changes that she went through.  I'm so grateful that my father looked like my father.  For my sake, but more importantly for my children's sake. 

I am a ball of emotions and today was a rough day for me.  I wasn't able to separate work life and home life today.  Today I was weak.  Today I was human.  Today I was a daughter who has lost her dad.  All over again.