What a coincidental name for a funeral home-It hints at the words ” erase me”. In a way, the name seems fitting to the company´s line of work although “Timeless Tranquillity” would have been more preferable if I were to be asked.
someone must have passed away either last week or over the weekend. A black Mercedes Benz van, bearing the licence plate 219XX, parked right next to the V-shaped seating arrangement at Place Guillaume, directly opposite Banque et Caisse d´Epargne de État. The driver stepped out, clad entirely in black – a black suit, black shoes, black shirt and a black tie. With his documents tightly held to his chest, he walks with resolute long strides towards the familiar destination. “The Bieger Center.”
His demeanor is stoic, devoid of sorrow or gloom, in a manner suggesting that this were just another one of his routine task, one he had performed countless times before. After enough repetition, I reckon that the grief numbs an individual, turning even the most somber duties into a mere procedure. As he walks past the glass doors of the Bierger center, did it dawn on me that the center was the same place where new life is registered, changes in status are recorded and lost life is deregistered.
As he disappears into the center to declare the passage of the individuals onto the afterlife, I am let contemplating on those left behind. They not only have to endure the sorrow of losing a loved one, but are also faced with the overwhelming administrative burden that follows; obtaining a medical certificate, declaring the departure at the commune, securing a burial permit, organizing the funeral service and providing the necessary documentations to the banks, Insurance companies, pension funds, employers, Notaries, vehicle registration and countless other agencies. For once , I find myself grateful for the black suit driver on whose shoulders this task rests.
Although it might seem bizarre, the sight of the black Mercedes Benz van and its driver brought back to mind the fragility of life. As none of us knows the day or the hour of our departure, it´s quite a nudge to make the most of the present moments. The more I get along in years, the more I come to understand that the years already lived may have already outnumbered the years to come. And yet, in a paradoxical way, demise continues to assigns meaning to life. It forces us to acknowledge mortality, contemplate and reflect more on life´s purpose and our actions towards it while confronting the inevitable. Maybe by being more grateful, easily forgiving, changing of attitudes and perhaps, just perhaps open the door to something or someone new.
Watching the black suit driver go about his tasks, I was once again am reminded of the timeless wisdom of king Solomon, who once wrote:
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones , and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek and a time, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time for war, and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
And when our time has come, may we depart in peace and without regrets.
Written by Nessa
Photo by: Aron Visuals auf Unsplash
This is so beautiful, Vanessa <3 Indeed, let us live our life with a purpose as we do not know when will we be called again.