The Science - Revisited
A note on why I actually do what I do…
Trigger warning - this essay mentions Anatomy dissection.
In May of 2023 (shocked face - why is that only two essays ago?!) I wrote about the science of death, because someone had asked me a technical question. In writing the answer, I told my story the way I have done for years. It has recently occured to me there is another way to tell it.
These are the bones (ha, sorry) of the story I usually tell:
I loved anatomy in high school. I remember being the first person to reach for one of the sheep brains presented in a bucket by my Anatomy teacher, while everyone else made faces and barf-noises. I loved dissection, because I was able to see how everything worked, and take note of how beautifully intricate it all was.
Speaking of - If you want to see something that looks like a miracle, check out all the tubes you are carrying inside of you; tubes that formed from cells into a complete architecture that carry everything important to keep you alive!
Honestly, I probably felt a cool superiority in not being grossed out but I also found it all to be so fascinating. I could see the beauty in the gross.
Because I was not afraid of these things, and in fact leaned into the learning, I decided to go to Mortuary College. My parents were big on trade schools and here was a trade that I felt I could both do, and do for a long time without threat of job extinction. (Oh hey, I was right…)
Over the years, the things that interest me about this work have changed. I am less about the science of the physical body (although, still pretty cool!) and more about our minds and spirits.
And as I have reflected on the story I usually tell, this is how I might say the same thing, but different.
I loved Anatomy class because I am a person who leans in to the things that cause most to recoil. The dark, hidden away parts that we don’t want to face. The things that might really be beautiful if we get past our resistance, fear, and repulsion; because somehow I understood that on the other side of these things is a deeper understand of life, and our part in it.
Maybe I wasn’t seeing the beauty in the gross, I was seeing the beauty in the things we avoid.
This is the through-line of my work. I now serve the world by holding your hand as you (probably a 40-something year old mom with kids and aging parents) face the things we all would prefer to avoid, but can’t - because this is life.
I am talking death and dying, but also grief. Feelings and emotions and periods of life we would rather just…not.
Unfortunately, we often don’t get a choice. I can’t make it less scary, I can’t make it less intense. I can’t even make it less gross, if that’s what it is. What I can do is be with you as you do it, and share what I have learned from others who have walked through the dark places before you.
I show up beside you so that you see it can be done, that you are not alone - and I share the beauty that I see along the way.
I can help you to see that it is these dark places that help us appreciate the light. It’s the salt with the sweetness, the cymbal crash in a symphony, the poop that makes the flowers grow. These are all cliches, perhaps, but that doesn’t make them untrue.
So if you were to ask me now I got into this work I would tell you this:
As a young person, I realized that the beauty of life has a lot to do with the things we don’t often care to look at, and I am here to tell you what I see. I offer a different perspective, and a supportive presence when you have no choice but to look.
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PS - I don’t use ChatGPT in these essays. The dashes are mine! I love a dash! Just in case you were wondering…