A Sibling in Always

Part 1 Chapter 1

1

Okay

old man alone

grows by two, his sad life.

They called him good, until it came –

a coarse sadness that would not let him go.

So it grew stronger and it kept him breathing hate,

then it began to subside – ninety years.

His name now dim: drunk and crazy.

The doctor no one knows

gave all his life

to you.

The first step is to wash the body. The clothing is removed and any jewelry is placed in a manila envelope, noting a full inventory and the body part on which it was worn is recorded. If the deceased has eyeglasses anywhere on his or her person, they will be kept. At the family's request, they may be placed on the face of the deceased during the viewing and funeral. Thick lenses, which would cause a magnifying effect on the closed eyelids, are removed and replaced with pieces of cut Plexiglas. Any debris left behind from the less than humble process of dying is washed away with soaking wet rags. These towels are discarded. A strong disinfectant spray, that would reel the living into a coughing fit, is sprayed all over the body, and it is then wiped down thoroughly, making sure not one square centimeter of the body is missed. The body begins to decay immediately and the disinfectant kills all the microbes colonizing on the skin and orifices of the deceased. Next, the body is massaged, if still in the grip of rigor mortis. The joints and muscles stiffen soon after death, and they must be moved and kneaded to make the dead flesh supple. This allows the body to be positioned and manipulated. Then the face is shaved; men and women alike. Children, too. Everyone has traces of hair on their faces, and, if not removed, the makeup can clump and become unsightly during the viewing and funeral.

These first steps are to prepare the body for embalming, and, some professionals in the field assert they are as important as the funeral process itself. I complete these steps textbook and methodic each time a body is placed before me, breathing meditatively the whole time. I have to learn the dead, so I will know how to proceed with making them look alive again, reminding myself the entire time this used to be a human being. I permit myself to be sentimental, "Pretend you are the one who truly loved this person."

Now I am about my work.

Sometimes I delay – I sit back and think of how many ways there are to die in a small town. I see new ones all the time. Bodies come in the door mangled and dismembered in new and unusual ways. Many people do die while having a great time. Those can be hard ones. I don't know if it is the boredom or mundane nature of small town life. If life in a small town is mundane and boring, that is. I don't know it to be. I have lived my life in a small town not too far from a medium sized city. Many people do. There is life between the coasts, some of it very exciting. Not mine: I sit on my stool in front of a table. On that table lies a dead body. This is my work.

But it's time to get on with it.

Believe me: procrastination is not a quality you want if you work in the funeral industry.

I have to start though, so I do as I always do, with the image of my mother. I see her sitting on the ground beside the Ohio River. Her head turned back to gaze at me. Pillars of gray breath steaming from her mouth in the cold morning air, and I wait for her to speak, just to say my name and acknowledge I am there. I hear her, "Horace?"