Removing the Deceased

Richard died. I knew this because I got a call 4:30 in the morning from my new boss, telling me that I had to go to his house and take his body to the mortuary. It was the first day of my side job and I was a little nervous, having never done a removal before.


I stumbled out of bed, put on my suit and tie and met the funeral director at the mortuary. We then drove to Richard's house, where we were greeted by his distraught daughter. She was crying, upset that see didn't get to say her final goodbye before her dad passed. Driving all night from California, she missed him, she told us, by thirty minutes.


She led us in, where we found Richard, sitting on the couch dead. Richard's children and grandchildren were sitting around him, taking turns hugging him, and stroking his hair. The funeral director offered his condolences, explained what was about to happen as I stood there in silence, trying to look as respectful as I could, understanding that I was not to say anything.

The family explained to us that Richard was a veteran. After the funeral they were going to fly the flag that veteran's receive from their years of service on the front porch, because, as they put it, "that is what grandpa would have wanted."

After about 15 minutes, it was time to take Richard to the mortuary. The family wanted to watch, as we took Richard from the couch and placed him on the gurney. My biggest fear, having never done a removal before, was dropping him. Although heavier than anticipated, we placed Richard on the gurney and into the van, with no trouble.

As we drove off, the family was left in the driveway, hugging each other, knowing that this was indeed final. Richard would not be coming home again.