There is only one funeral home in Warren, Minnesota, population 1,600. One of the morticians is Victor M. Sweeney. Most people don’t know his last name, because they don’t need to: He’s the only Victor in town.
It’s not the kind of job most people picture themselves doing: handling dead bodies, planning funerals, writing obituaries. But Sweeney chose it—and he loves it. He explains why in his new book, Now Departing: A Small-Town Mortician on Death, Life, and the Moments in Between, out October 14. We’re delighted to publish an excerpt today.
Being a mortician, Sweeney writes, is not morbid at all; it is about easing the burden carried by the loved ones left behind. In other words, this is a tribute to life, told through stories of laying the dead to rest. —The Editors
Judy died of cancer. It was one of those long declines that families describe in an obituary as a “battle.” Cancer took the best years of her life—she died before reaching retirement—and it also took her hair, both breasts, and a few organs along the way.
When my boss Mike and I arrive at the house, Judy looks absolutely nothing like herself. Death can do this to us, even in less extreme cases. We don’t usually lie perfectly still. Nor do we do so with our mouths hanging open.
