At the time that I accepted the job as a family service pre-need counselor at Paylor Funeral Home, I had grown and matured considerably in terms of dealing with death.  (See previous post).
Ironically, that was primarily because of my days as a teacher when seven of my students/former students died tragically.  Three died of leukemia, one from sickle cell anemia,  two were killed in  car accidents, and one died in a plane crash.  All that happened within a fifteen-year span and all either died while still in high school or within two years of graduating.
I always thought that was an unusually high number, considering that we lived in a town of less than 10,000 people. I particularly thought that four young people contracting leukemia--one survived--was significant for such a small town. I don't know if that trend has continued since I moved away but It has crossed my mind that perhaps there was some reason for that unusually high number of leukemias in children.  I certainly went to my share of funerals during that time, needless to say.
But the one that shook me to the core more than any of the others was my best friend's daughter, who was diagnosed with leukemia just three months past her sixteenth birthday. Not only was her mother my best friend whom I loved like the sister I never had, but her daughter was Kenna's best friend as well.  I have told that story in earlier posts on Blogster, so I will not repeat it all here. (see references at bottom if you would like to read them). 
When she died suddenly just four months later from sepsis, I found myself at Donna's request back in the selection room where I had not been since my father's death.
When the funeral home called, stating that it was ready for the family to come to make the preparations, Calvin came to me, stating that Donna wanted me to come with them.
I was forty-six at the time, and the first thought that flashed through my mind was the dread I had felt some twenty-five years earlier when I had to step in there to select my father's casket.  
I wanted to say that I couldn't do it, but I didn't.  What I discovered was that I was stronger than I thought; and that I could not only go back in that selection room but I could also be supportive of Calvin and Donna.
Getting through those days after Rhonda died proved a challenge for us all, but we did do it, though it did not happen overnight.  There's always the cathartic feeling of relief once the service and committal are behind, but then comes those days ahead.
It took its toll on all of us.
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and succeeding posts.)p>



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