THE DAY A MORTICIAN BECAME FAMILY AT A FUNERAL

THE DAY A MORTICIAN BECAME FAMILY AT A FUNERAL

The day started like most others, dressing, and casketing loved ones for their funeral services and cremations. I logged in all the new residents at my care center, they had arrived overnight. Our facility prepared all the loved ones for 11 funeral homes in our Southern California area. Things could get busy at our care center, but we all loved what we did for a living, so it made our days go fast and felt rewarding.

Our place was remarkably busy this sunny day, 10 services were on our schedule and 9 cremations needed to be done. We were short staffed, so I was also going to go on a service, instead of running the care center. I helped, dress, prepare, casket, then load up the loved one for their funeral service later that day. I drove to the funeral home to meet up with the funeral director. Once I arrived, I transferred the casket from my van to the hearse so I could load the flowers into my van for the services. Once we were loaded up and ready we proceeded to the church.

We arrived at the church and were met by the family who were just getting there in their family car (limo). We called the Pall Bearers over and they proceeded to go over their duties that day. Once informed, flowers were placed at the doors of the church and extended family and friends had made their way to their seats, we then brought the casket containing their loved one out of the hearse. One by one, the Pall Bearers passed the casket to the next awaiting hand. Once centered, the casket was then lowered onto the cart and we then made our way into the church for the service.

Once the service was finished, we then loaded the casket back into the hearse and headed to the cemetery for the burial and the family all followed in procession. We arrived at the cemetery, the hearse and my van were parked, and soon the extended family started to arrive. The service was to take place mid-way down a hill, a hill that was awfully close to being a mountain. As I walked over to the hearse, I heard a sound, something that was like thunder, but not a cloud was in the sky, so what could it be I wondered.

I looked around and saw nothing. I looked up the hill and there I saw a white truck, barreling down the hill, uncontrolled, flying, bouncing! I felt frozen in fear, but no, I must do something, but what?! The truck was headed directly for the cars and the family who were just arriving for the burial of their loved one. I started to run and began yelling to my co-worker to look UP! She looked, but all we could do, was protect the casket and yell to alert anyone and everyone who could hear us to, RUN! Time seemed to stand still yet speed up at the same time. The rumbling of the truck and the crash of it hitting a metal ramp above us on the hill was deafening and surreal.

The truck launched up into the air after hitting the metal ramp, then hit the ground with such an erratic motion that it confirmed my fear that no one was behind the wheel. The unmanned truck rocketed down, hitting two parked cars on one side of the road, sending them flying into the people who were walking. The truck was like a bowling ball, knocking down pins, but the pins were vehicles and human beings. The truck then hit two more cars on the opposite side of the road, then more people. I watched as a woman three times my size, get tossed into the air like a leaf in the wind. Later we found her glasses hanging from branches in the tall, tall, tree. The truck continued to race erratically down the hill, bouncing, fast. Then as fast as it all started, it stopped with the truck ramming head on, into a large tree.

An earie silence was broken by screams, vigorous chatter, then the sound that seemed louder than anything else, gurgling. The sound of someone struggling to breathe, sounded like someone gargling thick water, it was a memorable and tragic sound that stained my mind. I ran over to a woman who was laying on the pavement near the first set of cars that were thrown. She had been hit and was laying there, scared, helpless and making sounds I had never heard before and hope to never hear again. The weather seemed to get warmer by the minute and my mental state was shifting, I felt almost paralyzed with shock of what was going on, did this really just happen to these people, is this real? I had to snap back into reality, I needed to HELP. I told a gentleman who came to assist the woman with me, that I would run to my van and get some blankets to rest her on and cover her with, to at least comfort her. I have never felt so useless, was I even helping? I ran over to my van, grabbed all the blankets I could find and went back. I could only cover her a bit and comfort her with kind words and reassure her that everything would be okay. She laid on the hot pavement, in her blood. I stroked her hair and looked her in the eyes and just talked to her. What I saw in her eyes looked like fear and nothing else. Others came to assist, but nothing could be done until the paramedics arrived, moving her was not an option.

As the paramedics, police and fire trucks started to arrive, the people started assembling into various groups, comforting each other. The woman who had been tossed into the air was laying in the strangest, most uncomfortable looking position, on her back, legs where they should not be, arms bent behind her body. in yet she was alert and talking. All of the people around her were keeping her calm and I could only walk around and check on everyone who looked like they needed a shoulder to cry on. I had no medical background to help, I could just offer support, and that had to be good. It was surreal, the scene of cars strewn everywhere, people in need of help, blood, glasses in trees.

As the helicopter was loaded up, ambulances left, police were wrapping up all of their reports and leaving, all of the energy of the day seemed to dissipate. The funeral director, the CEO of the cemetery, all management, and myself, sat on some chairs that were meant for family to observe the burial of their loved one earlier. We sat and said nothing for quite some time, what was there to say. I was just observing the surroundings when I saw a man down the hill from us, sitting with his back to a tree and it looked like he was crying. I decided to go to him, see if he was okay, since everyone was leaving now and he was staying behind.

As I approached him, I could tell he worked at the cemetery and he was sobbing, head in hands, sobbing. I slowly walked up asking if he was okay, if I could help. The man started rambling, “I set the brake, I set the brake it just was gone, it just went, I set the brake”. I quickly realized that this was the man’s work truck that just barreled down the mountain. He was in such mental and emotional pain, this was easy to see, but I was concerned that if the family that was remaining saw him, it could be dangerous for him. I did not want to have any type of conflict at this moment. I visited with him, put my hand on his shoulder, tried to sympathize with him. I helped him get up and walk over to the other crew members, where he would be safe and hopefully find some comfort.

I walked back up to where my co-workers were sitting and visiting about what had just occurred. We all tried to go over what happened. How did this happen? Did we do all we could to help? What should we do now? We realized that although we needed comforted, we are all physically okay, that our concern was really about those who were injured, how are they? Will anyone tell us how they are? What will happen, what do WE do. Our day slowed way down. We gathered ourselves, got in our cars and drove back to the funeral home to decompress.

For the days and years to come, I checked in with the family to see how people were doing. I made sure if there was something I could do, it got done. Two of the most severely injured women will be in wheelchairs for the rest of their lives they said. The rest of the injured would end up being okay, physically. The mental trauma to those who were witnesses and physically injured, continues. Everyone deals with events such as this different, but I do hope everyone is doing okay. I chose to keep open communication with the family. I want to know how everyone is doing and offer a kind word every now and then. That day, that fateful day, I, a mortician, became a part of another family, at a funeral.