Order of the Good Death
April 1, 2012
People have asked me if I was scared growing up in a funeral home, and the answer has always been no. It wasn’t scary for any of us, because we never knew life without dead people. I always looked at the dead as though they were temporary guests in our house — and I guess they were. My dad always treated them with respect, so we followed suit. They were like guests I’d never met before, but was completely comfortable around — and they seemed to enjoy my entertainment. I kind of liked them in a way; I didn’t know anything about their lives — whether they were nice or mean or crazy — each one was just someone who died and ended up in our basement
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