Yes, I've already changed the name of the blog. Why? It's more fitting. It's certainly descriptive of the mind behind the words, if nothing else.
In the interest of truth in advertising, I don't handle corpses anymore (I might handle their spirits, but not the physical shells). I identify most strongly with this aspect of my life, however, because the time that I did was likely the single best clearly-defining factor of my mindset and my spirituality. It was the time that I realized that I can do something that most sane people would avoid (in more ways than one), learned to put my own fears aside for the love of others, and, quite frankly, when I first heard the calling of my heart.
I have always been called to serve others; I believe it was my father who instilled that in me, a little bit more each time he answered the literal siren's call to go where only very special -- or very foolish -- souls would dare. When I was inducted into the National Honor Society as a student, the tenet I chose to speak on was Service. I did a lot of volunteering as a youth. This is not to toot my own horn, mind, but to give you a sense of where I was coming from before I began to walk the Fields of the Dead.
As Top Dollar noted in The Crow, "Childhood's over the moment you know you're gonna die." I knew this by the time I was six. One's mortality is not something easily faced. Every time I've picked up a human bone fragment, every time I've looked into the rotting eyes of a corpse, I've been reminded of that moment when the angels whispered into my ear that my days were numbered, unbidden and unwanted. Every time I've faced it, and decided that the person in front of me, however torn and broken, needed me more than that fact did. Or their families. Or the interest of Justice, who isn't blind at all.
Like nothing else in the Universe, Death is the Great Equalizer, and He comes for us all. He is the inescapable fact that we can try all we want to avoid, to hide from, or postpone -- but sooner or later, He will embrace us. Often, it's called unfair; often, He is called evil or cruel. Such is His lot, such is His place.
He is neither.
He is Fact.
He Is.
Death, in whatever name you choose to call Him (always, for me, does Death manifest as male), is not something to be feared. He is a midwife of sorts, a guide to What Lies Beyond, the Keeper of the Gate, the Parter of the Veil. He is as kind as He can be, given the harsh circumstances. He knows we fear Him. I saw Him standing at my father's feet, as Dad dug in his heels and glared back at Him defiantly in his last moments; He waited patiently for Dad to accept the journey ahead, and when Dad was ready, He smiled kindly, took his soul, and they walked on through the Gate together.
He serves. His service is too often overlooked, too often scorned; but still he serves. He called me to His service, and now I serve. I stand witness to the past. I stand witness to the scars of living. I honor those who have gone before, and those who are working toward accepting their journey. I keep their souvenirs, their testaments, their memories. I hope to build a better world for the living, that they may carry forth into the next life with a sense of joy and wonder.
I serve. That doesn't mean I'm always happy about it, though.
