Crematory

I work right beside a cemetery. I actually park my car at the cemetery parking lot. Almost everyday I drive through a grieving family.

I think I have a nice relationship with death. I can make jokes about it, and sometimes I think I laughed through my grieving moments – this is not an absolute truth, but sometimes it feels like it.

I find very ironic that the songs playing on the car radio are usually appropriate to a funeral – like today I ran into a very crowded funeral listening to “The dog days are over” by Florence and the Machine.

The only thing that is really, really bothering me is the smell of the crematory. Somedays it feels like I’m working nearby Auschwitz circa 1943.

And I am afraid of breathing deep and swallowing someone’s soul.

This entry was posted in Ick, Meism, Uncategorized, Working Class. Bookmark the permalink.

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