Saw a jogger get hit by a car when I was driving with my aunt. She pulled over and ran to help and call 911, and she came back to the car covered in blood. I was like 7.
I’m a funeral director and I’ve got two cases I think about a lot.
The first was a Russian man who shot himself. He into the yard in a poncho, sat on a chair and shot himself in the heart. Russians always do open caskets so he was preserving his face but he didn’t realize I need an intact heart to embalm, but that’s not what sticks with me. When we unwrapped him he had a big fat smile plastered on his face. It was like staring into the void and the void smiling calmly back at you. He was completely at ease with his decision.
The second is who I affectionately refer to as River Man. He had been there for 2 weeks. The smell was indescribable. He was falling apart. Blue green and black. You can’t just convince yourself eveythings fine. There’s this innate biological response to working with decay like that and all day my body was in fight or flight mode. His wife insisted on viewing him. We cautioned her, we showed her photos, we asked the medical examiner to caution her but she could not be dissuaded. She spent 15 fucking minutes in a tiny room alone with him.