I Wish My Family Were Here

When I landed my position at the funeral home in March, my family and I had a couple of options. We could all move down together, which would have been a logistical nightmare. Two licensed drivers, two very old automobiles, and one UHaul truck did not make a good recipe for success. In addition, my wife and son had to finish their school year and my son is in a wedding on May 13th. So we decided I would come down at the end of April in my car, with my wife and son to follow when they finished their schooling in early May. Her car would be towed on a trailer attached to the Uhaul, and men from our church would help her load the truck.

The downside to this plan is the three weeks we are apart. The first week wasn't too bad; I was busy learning my way around the funeral home, how they did things, and so forth. My first three days were very busy, and the week ended with a 9am funeral that first Saturday morning. This week, however, has been slow. Since we have had no bodies, we have been painting and cleaning up around the place. Since I am not busy, it's given me time to reflect on how much I miss my family. I love them dearly and can't wait for them to join me so we can begin our new lives here. I sent my son an email last night, apologizing for uprooting his life with little warning or forethought. It seems everytime we make a big move like this, we somehow neglect to include him in the decision making process. Son, I am so sorry.

I'm on call until Wednesday. That means if we get any requests to pick up a deceased individual after regular business hours, I would be the one going out the funeral home, getting in the hearse and driving to the destination to make the removal solo. I've only done one removal in my entire career, and that was as an observer and occasional helper. I'm apprehensive about having to do this by myself until I get one or two more assists under my belt. I pray nothing comes in after hours this week.