What Are You Going To Do With All That Dark?

   

    As I near the end of my first week back to school, I thought it was time to get into the ‘whys.’ In my classes, we’ve been asked to write an introduction paragraph to help us familiarize ourselves with our classmates. This task hasn’t been that difficult because, as you’ve seen, I can write for days. It has made evident, though, the number of differences in life’s ages and stages and also the commonalities some of us share. And just like when people find out about my major in person, most ask, ‘why that?’ Looking back over my life’s career choices, except for being a music major, they all have been some sort of public servitude. Whether installing car seats or inspiring someone in their fitness journey, everything I’ve pursued has been with one goal: helping. The other thing my choices have in common is what looks, to most people, like spontaneity. I am a person that instantly knows if something is right or wrong for me. They come to me almost like lightbulb moments. Anything I have instantaneously actively pursued, I have been successful in. Did you know I never wanted to be a personal trainer? But from the moment I hit the floor to teach my first class and found women walking away with newfound confidence, I knew I had to take the leap. Look at me now!

  While death is around us every day, it’s most times not personal. But when those moments of personality come to visit, they often bring up thoughts and emotions you may never have had before. I have been fortunate not to know death intimately in my thirty-eight years, but it has visited me several times. And each of those times, I learn something new about myself, my outlook on the world, and the future I wish to create.

    Most recently, my Grandfather passed away in November. It wasn’t unexpected. There was no surprise in it. The decline had been steady since my Grandmother passed away in 2017. The five-hour trip to my family gave me much time to think, and the gears didn’t stop turning. As I accompanied my parents, and my Aunt, for a private viewing, I noted many things that will stick with me forever. The funeral home staff seemed so welcoming and genuine, talking with us about his life and asking questions about the clothes that had been picked out. My Mom mentioned that he looked ‘off’ but couldn’t explain why. He looked good, just not quite like the PaPa I remembered. She verbalized this to the funeral director but immediately followed the comment with, ‘I know there’s only so much you can do.’ It wasn’t a negative comment; more like thinking out loud. This got me thinking someone has to make the deceased look alive, to make them look presentable. Someone is handed a body, told what it once looked like, then makes sure it winds up as close as possible so that the family is comforted instead of upset. Of course, there’s cremation, and I don’t know the statistics, but someone must do that with care and concern. The funeral director mentioned she dressed Papa and asked questions about his tie, our family tartan. All of a sudden, the lights came on upstairs. How underappreciated this profession was and how much respect they deserve for the care and empathy they provide during a family’s time of need. 

  Over the last few months, I had already considered going back to school during my husband’s upcoming shore duty. The kids were getting older, there was no sense in opening a business for two years, and I needed a purpose. Physical therapy was a pretty obvious field to pursue given that I already work with human bodies and enjoy it. Working ‘for the man’ was not an option, fitness-wise, after owning my own business. I’m not really a rule breaker, but more of a rule maker. I can work well with others, but I prefer working alone. And I still wanted the reward of comforting others and helping them realize their strength. In talking to the funeral director, my path became clear. Funeral Services checked off nearly every box I’d created and then some. I’m not stupid. I know there are many hurdles for me to cross, and I know that, at times, this journey will be highly emotional for me. I’m an empath by nature, after all. But I believe that if I look past the difficulty, to the reward that lies in comforting others, to making death less of a business transaction and more of an honorable farewell that I have the privilege of attending, that this is what I’m meant to do.