Bod Shop

“I talked to Paul this afternoon, “Husband informed me last week.

I waited several seconds for Paul’s last name, which of course did not come. Finally I asked, “Which Paul?”

“You know, from the mortuary. Paul with the red hair.”

I got it. Husband couldn’t remember his last name, either. My mind filled with pictures of the tall young man we’ve known for more than 25 years. At that time he worked at a funeral Home in the old mansion downtown.

“Oh, yes. That Paul. Nice guy. How is he?”

“He sounds great. He is back in the mortuary business.”

“Does that mean he left it? Why?”

“He did for one year. He worked for the Hawker, but when they had lay-offs, he was one of the first out the door. He worked there one year and one week.”

I really wasn’t interested in those details. I was just glad Paul had a trade to fall back onto. My main question had to do with the conversation to which Husband first referred.

But I did continue with the memories. “His twins must be nearly grown, like around 18 or so. Didn’t he and his wife have at least one more child?”

Husband remembers that type of minutiae. “Yes, I believe they did one more child.”

I was looking to move this conversation on to the piece that affected us. “Did you call Paul, or did he call you? What was it about?”

“Oh, I called him. I am thinking about getting back into the business part time. He was glad to hear from me and said he would like to have me available to help pick up bodies and other tasks like that.”

I thought back to when Paul and Husband first worked together in the mortuary business. Husband was a mortician’s assistant in that he closed caskets at night, helped with the grunt work of the funeral services, and was on call to help pick up bodies and take them to the mortuary. He was even allowed to help with preparation of the bodies.

It was the type of work Husband truly enjoyed.

“You were always really quite good at that type of work. I couldn’t imagine why you chose to do it since you got the job just when you yourself just had cancer surgery, my brother died, and your step-mother had cancer surgery. It seemed we were surrounded by potential death or thoughts of death during that time period.”

“We needed the money for medical bills, and strange as it seems, it helped me take my mind off my own health. I was just thankful I was alive and able to do the work.”

“It is a people-pleasing job, which isn’t always your strong suit, but you did so well with the families of the deceased.”

“I think of it as a ministry. People die every day, and families need help and comfort.”

“You were kind to them.”

I snickered to think, “Our kids have memories of the pizza parties we had in the back room of the viewing area. It was one way we could have dinner with you the evenings you worked there.”

“I thought of it as a great learning setting for them. However, Crown Prince doesn’t like to remember I picked him up and laid him in an empty casket. I wanted him to feel how soft it was.”

I shivered to remember that incident.

“Yeah,” Husband said, “He said ‘Daddy, you’re not going to make me test out a casket again, are you?’ Of course I grabbed him close to me and assured him I would not. I did not realize I had frightened him that much.”

“No, I suppose you did not think ahead in that direction. You were focused on letting him have an experience.”

“The kids still call it ‘The Bod Shop’, ” Husband grinned.

“I know. I thought it was funny and typical of you to nickname it in that manner. I guess it still is. It didn’t seem to teach them disrespect for death.”  I chuckled.

“After all,” Husband continued. “That’s all a mortuary is. It is a body shop for the dead and a place for their loved ones to say good-bye in good fashion.”

I hope Husband does get to work with Paul and does get to serve others during an hour of need. However, I am going to draw a boundary. No more eating in the back viewing room while he is at work.