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head shakes and solemn faces. Every chance I can, I reach over
and give his tiny hand a squeeze. I’m not sure why I keep
doing it, but I want this baby boy to know I cared and that I
was so sorry he had been taken so soon.
The whole time we were preparing him, I kept thinking
about how when I first started this job that I thought I’d only
be burying little old ladies and little old men. The ones who
had lived long and fruitful lives and who had died peacefully in
their sleep at the ripe old age of ninety-eight. Unfortunately,
that’s not the case. Too often I see someone come through the
preparation room that’s too young. Whether the person is my
age or young enough to be my child, it gets me every time. It’s
not just the little old ladies and men that die; it’s people of all
ages. Still, even as I write that sentence, it sounds silly. As if
everyone should know that. But until you see it, it doesn’t hit
you. It doesn’t seem real. And when you finally do see it, you
begin to understand how truly fragile life is. The idea of death
as the great equalizer isn’t just a saying; it’s a reality. One that
reminds us that this life is incredibly precious and that each
moment is worth celebrating, because we don’t always get
second chances.
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