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— Smoke Gets in Your Eyes - Caitlin Doughty
The family took their time viewing their matriarch before coming to get me for the cremation.
Back in the chapel I was alarmed to find smoke wafting out from the sides of the corpse.
The family had laid several thick bundles of burning sage in the folds of her white sheets.
We didn’t usually allow open fire in the viewing room, but since Mike was gone and Mom resembled sports equipment, I let it slide.
Along with the incense, ==the family had placed a Häagen-Dazs coffee-and-almond ice-cream bar between her hands like a Viking warrior’s weapon.
Those are my favorite.
So I yelled, involuntarily, “Those are my favorite!” I had successfully kept my mouth shut up till that moment (even after the insult to my skills as a corpse beautician), but ice cream proved a topic on which I could not remain silent==.
Thankfully, they just laughed.
Coffee ice-cream bars were their mother’s favorite too.
With Chris retrieving Mr.
Clemons, it was up to me to transfer Mom into the crematory.
My first act was to ram the cot firmly into the doorframe, spewing forth a burst of sage smoke.
I don’t remember exactly what I said—mortification clouds the memory—but it was probably something along the lines of “Whoops!” or “First door’s always a doozy!” I lifted Mom onto the conveyor belt without incident, and then, to my relief, the belt’s soothing whir accompanied her right into the cremation machine.
I let her son push the button to start the flames.
Like many before him, he was moved by the button’s ritual power.
The incense and ice cream had shown that this family was no stranger to ritual.
For the moment it seemed he had forgotten the rammed door and the theatrical makeup (though he still wasn’t charmed enough to ask me out).