From lipstick to dead boxes

Walking into the columbarium for the first time was a deep, emotion-provoking experience. Was I really going to stop selling make-up and “self-worth” to women and start selling niches for families to bury their loved ones? It was a definite 180 degree turn. My father had told me once that life, in itself, can be depressing- why make your job depressing too. When he had said that, I was thinking of social work. What would he think of me selling dead boxes?

Focusing, at the beginning, on the paperwork and organizational portions of the job gave me the distance I needed to come to terms with my choice. At this point I wanted to work with people in a pre-planning phase. Years before, my husband and I had felt the stress of planning a funeral at a time of need and I felt that I understood the necessity of having things organized before something happens. So, I started to seek out people like me who would look at the pre-planning of death as a necessity. Not having to deal with families who have just lost a loved one was good enough for me at this point; although that time was short lived. My time within my emotion-defensive walls was over.

I started receiving phone calls from women who lost their husbands, from children having just lost their last parent and was now feeling orphaned or from family members that were nominated into the job, more oftentimes, with no previous experience in this type of planning. This is where the true empathy needed in this position showed itself.

It’s not about the organizing. It’s not about the flowers. It’s not about choosing the music. It’s about helping a family through a very difficult time. Sometimes, all I need to do is listen and sometimes I need to lead them step by step through the entire process. No one can predict how they will feel or act during this time of grief. And I definitely didn’t know how I would be able to help a family through such an emotional time. However sitting in the same room with people and hearing their stories and seeing their tears make the job worthwhile. I have been able to find empathy. I have been able to feel their grief but I have the strength of knowing that what I say, or don’t say, will make them feel that this is just a small part of the closure process.

My emotions aren’t important in this position. It’s all about them. It’s about knowing that it is a difficult time for families. Helping the process go smoothly and allowing them to grieve is the basis of what I do. I’m just there to make sure that they have nothing else to worry about but crying, loving and remembering. If all I can do for them is take away that little bit of stress, then my job is so worthwhile.

So really, I don’t sell dead boxes, I sell peace of mind. And it truly feels good.