With my tie in perfect order, I head to the front door, holding it open just as the family arrives. I greet the grieving daughter and son-in-law, Debbie and Stuart, as well as their three children, handing them a small packet of tissues as they enter the funeral home. It’s one thing I’ve learned over the years: be prepared. Always.
I escort them to the entrance of the parlor, where their loved one waits. They slowly make their way inside to say their goodbyes, while I wait just outside the door. After fifteen minutes, they come out to take a breather.
“I’ll open the doors at four o’clock to the public,” I tell them.
“Thank you, Samuel. You’ve been most helpful during this time,” Debbie says, and I can tell already she’s about to hug me. Grievers always hug, and why they feel the need to hug me is beyond my comprehension, especially when a handshake will suffice. Handshakes are professional. Yet here I am, being wrapped in her arms, a slight sniffle pulling my attention to the fact she probably just wiped her nose on my jacket sleeve.
“It’s my pleasure to see your mother’s final wishes were seen to,” I insist, awkwardly patting her pack in an effort to return her affection.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Debbie says, taking a step back and wiping her nose on the crumbled up tissue in her hand. I try not to think about all of those germs. “I have someone stopping by after the visitation this evening.”
“Oh?” I ask, running through tonight’s schedule of events and coming up empty for an end of the night visitor.
“Yes, my Reiki healer is stopping by to see Mom.”
“I’m sorry, Reiki?” I ask, racking my mind for what in the world that means. We’ve had our fair share of pastors, priests, and rabbis in the house, but I’m not sure what a Reiki healer is.
“Oh, it’s this wonderfully relaxing Japanese technique that assists with many things, like your body’s natural healing process, relieving emotional stress, and improving your body’s overall well-being.”
I stare at the woman as she easily pitches the concept of this Reiki bullshit as if she were reading it out of the brochure. “And this will help your mother how?” I find myself asking, unable to see the connection.
“Well, there’s nothing better than sending Mom off to her final resting place when she’s free of stress, right?”
Well, she’s dead, so…
“Anyway, my Reiki healer has agreed to stop by after the visitation tonight to perform a treatment on Mom. It’ll only take about a half hour or so,” Debbie says matter-of-factly.
“Okay, I’m sure I can accommodate your…healer.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Samuel. This means a lot to me,” Debbie adds before, yep, you guessed it, pulling me into another tight hug. “Mom’s spirit will fly free thanks to this woman.”
“I bet she will,” I mumble, standing perfectly still as the woman finishes her hug. Before she completely removes her hands from my body, however, she reaches up and adjusts the knot on my tie. My heart stops in my chest as this woman paws all over my perfectly executed double Windsor.
Completely horrified, I gently pull back, reaching up automatically and tweaking the soft silk tie. I can tell the tie is askew and not at all where it should be. The tightness in my throat is almost choking as I try not to make a big show of moving it back into place.
“You’re such a handsome man, Samuel. I can’t believe you haven’t married yet,” Debbie says, heading over to the mirror and adding a second coat of a light lipstick.
“Guests will start to arrive any moment. I’m going to greet those attending at the front door,” I state professionally, completely glossing over her comment as if I didn’t hear her.
Debbie just nods and heads into the main parlor, her family hot on her heels.
As soon as she’s gone, I step up to the mirror and frantically correct my tie. I can practically see her finger smudges on the pristine material, even though they probably aren’t visible to the naked eye. But I know they’re there, taunting and mocking me with their imperfections.
I do the best I can to eliminate the tiny wrinkles from her fingers and head to the entrance. It’s only a few minutes later that the early birds start to arrive to pay their respects. I can always count on them to arrive ten to fifteen minutes prior to the start of any visitation. There’s no time but “their” time when it comes to schedules. Most of them will head out to dinner by four thirty, followed by Jeopardy! in their favorite recliner by six, and napping by six thirty. The elderly are as predictable as the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening.
Though, as much as their early arrival used to bother me, I completely understand it on a personal level. If you’re not ten to fifteen minutes early, then you’re already late. It may drive my family crazy, my constant need to be on time, but that’s better than the alternative. Tardiness makes you sloppy, and sloppy leads to mistakes. Mistakes create chaos, and the thought of chaos in my life brings a cold sweat to my skin.
“Good evening,” I greet to everyone as I open the main entrance door, shaking hands with those gentlemen who offer theirs. Some of them even feel the need to fill a few uncomfortable seconds with small talk before they step into line with the rest of those in attendance. Usually, it’s about the weather or something else as casual, but other times they try to ask me how the local high school football team is doing, or even how the fishing is
