“Crematory”

People think it’s strange that I’m so proud of my work, but as the first-ever female head operator at the country’s oldest crematory, I’m continuing to make history with every single body I lift into this machine.

That being said, it’s a thankless job.

Despite all the morbid mystique behind morticians, the role they serve in the grieving process is essential. They’re not just looming figures lurking in the corners of funeral parlors, they’re key players in moving the dead to the next realm and ushering their family past the hardest stage of loss. They’re not silent observers obsessed with death, they’re compassionate communicators who make sure the deceased get their final wishes and their closest loved ones can send them off with peace of mind.

And, unlike me, morticians can actually work with the living.

A lot of my clients, as I call them, are far past their expiration dates. If they had final wishes they fell upon deaf ears. For those whose requests by which I am abiding, no one ever sees my face. You don’t mind meeting the person that puts the makeup on. You take solace from the person who opens the casket. You shake the hands of the people who dig the graves. No one wants to see the person making the dust-to-dust an immediate reality.

It’s a thankless job and it’s a lonely job.

But it’s okay, I like working in solitude. No one can judge the work I do. No one can micromanage how I parse out the bone fragments. And, in return, no one has to see what I see. No one has to check in on the body only to discover the black mass of the brain that just won’t break down. No one has to deal with the flies and maggots that come with decomposition.

No one thanks you for turning their loved ones into ash.

No one wants to talk to you about the mediocrity of your day-to-day work.

No one notices who I am.

It’s thankless.

It’s lonely.

It’s my life.

“ROBIN! THAT’S THE WRONG BODY!” I hear one of the other technicians screech. Finally, I’ll have some human interaction, even if it’s fueled by anger.

I’m proud of the work I do.

I never said I was good at it.