The ones who work in silence

Ok, let's talk about mortuary attendants today, I know some of us may have met them in person, some just hear stories, but I've also heard so many stories from these categories of people, some describe them as humans without a conscience, hardened by the nature of their work, others believe they're trained psychologically, or that they've simply adapted with time, some say they used gears while others even go as far as saying they are ghost,
Asif their closeness to death has taken something from them. But I don't know which to believe, as I don't know which is true but I still carry that empathy in me for them, and I don't know why

Lately, I've been thinking about the people who care for the dead, the mortuary attendants, the quiet workers who stay behind after everyone else has gone.
While we are crying, mourning, or trying to forget, they are still there, standing beside the bodies, giving dignity to those who no longer speak.
Making sure the dead are also fine in that aspect 🥲

I don’t know them in person ,I don’t see them aswell, but No one celebrates them with applause or flowers.
No one cares for them as they do
But in the deepest way, they carry something sacred.

Imagine waking up every day knowing that you will face death over and over again. Not in stories or in movies, but real, human loss. A cold room. A lifeless face. A body that once laughed, argued, danced.
It takes a kind of strength that many of us don’t even understand.

I wonder how they feel when they clean the blood of someone who died too young. Or when they brush the hair of a mother who never made it home. Or when they carefully dress a body for burial, knowing it will be the last time anyone lays eyes on that person. Do they think about who that person loved? Who’s still waiting at home?

Do they cry when no one sees them?
Do they sit alone at night, carrying the weight of all those lives in their hearts?
Do they get tired of it?
How do they feel?
How do they handle their emotions?💔

Some people think they must be numb by now, or maybe they seem not to be ordinary, but I think they’ve just learned how to carry sorrow quietly. Maybe they don’t always have the words to explain it, but they feel it. I’m sure they do, no matter what

And yet, despite the weight, they show up. Not for glory, not for thanks, but because someone has to do it. Someone has to make sure the final moment of a life is met with care, not coldness. Someone has to be gentle when everyone else has left.

That kind of love, the silent kind is the most powerful, I think.

We may not see them, we may not even think about them, but they are there. Honoring the dead. Respecting life.
Taking care of the ones we loved, Carrying grief that isn't even theirs🥲

To every mortuary attendant out there, I see you. I honor you. And I hope, in your quiet world, you feel the love the world often forgets to give.
To find peace even in your difficult time
Cause I know it's not easy over there 🥲