Humor in the Heartache: Jen as the Undertaker of the Details

We’re back at the funeral home, escorted into a private room to view my Dad. This is visit number two since visit number one was less grieving and more inspecting.

Our first viewing of Dad revealed that he was in the wrong casket (as in not the one we had picked out) and shoddily-applied make-up.

So Jen and I were nominated by the family to go back for the second viewing to check the funeral director’s work.

Jen might as well have on white gloves and an inspector’s clipboard, because if you disappoint Jen once, you have an uphill battle to regain any of her respect.

She peers down at Dad’s eyebrows and sideburns and points out that they still need to be combed out and cleaned up.

The funeral director takes diligent notes on his clipboard (his is real, Jen’s is figurative).

Jen, impatient with whatever he’s writing, glares at him, “Well?” Her tone of voice ammo is an effective second layer of assault on top of her very aggressive body language.

The funeral director looks up from his clipboard on which he was probably just doodling to prevent eye contact with Jen.

Professionally he tells Jen (it’s like I’m literally merely a fly on the wall), “We prefer not to prepare our customers in front of the family. I’ll see to it that Mr Barrett is taken care of with the concerns you have raised.” Clearly it was a canned and rehearsed phrase from funeral director school. Probably one of those things you learn that you don’t imagine you’ll ever have to use. Also, Jen is one of those clients you don’t imagine you’ll ever have to meet.

“I’m not leaving until I see Walter’s face and hair fixed.”

“Yes ma’am.”

No one moves.

“Well?” Jen’s raised eyebrows indicate that movement is expected of at least one of us in the room.

“We prefer not to prepare our customers in front of the family. I’ll see to it that Mr Barrett is taken care of with the concerns you have raised.” Wow! It was a rehearsed and canned phrase. (I made that up before, but hearing the exact same words again confirms it).

“I’m not leaving until I see Walter’s face and hair fixed.” Oh, maybe I just copy pasted from above. “So go get your little make-up kit, bring it back here and fix this” Jen waves an open hand over Dad’s face to indicate the “this” that was to be fixed with the “little make-up kit.”

When we first arrived, the tissue to my face was to catch the tears of sadness from seeing my dad. Now the tissue was there to catch the tears of laughter from watching Jen defend my dad with the same blunt course of action he would have employed.

I don’t typically get please from other people’s displeasure, but I admit I smile as I watch the funeral director’s shaky hands maneuver the tiny little hairbrush over Dad’s eyebrows and sideburns while Jen hovers nearby, evaluating his technique with intense scrutiny.

You can bet your life that we didn’t leave that funeral home until the funeral director’s work complied with Jen’s strict standards.

Dead or alive, you want Jen by your side. I hope you have a Jen in your life … or that you can be a Jen for someone else.