Crazy Scale

While going through A’s box this week, I came across the cremation certificate – because, you know, that’s a normal part of baby books. Anyway, I read it over and noted the address of the crematorium is very close to our house. I know this crematorium because we have passed it many times. The actual funeral home that handled all of A’s arrangements, including picking him up from the hospital and coordinating his cremation, is a 30-minute drive from our house, but the crematorium is in our neighborhood.

I also note on the cremation certificate the name of the gentleman who signed it. I wonder if he is the one who actually cremated A. The next thought that popped into my head is that I could go to the crematorium and meet this man; shake his hand; look into his eyes and get a sense of who he is. This man is (quite possibly) the last person who touched my baby.

I’d like to think he’s a quiet, older fellow who has been in this line of work for some time and who respects the reverence of his occupation. But what he isn’t. What if he’s gruff and disgruntled? Would I regret having met him? Is the fantasy of Mr. Cremator better than knowing the truth?

This idea is not one I can share with many people because it is morose and a little batty. But I’ve always felt safe sharing these sorts of thoughts with the babyloss community. What do you guys think? Where does tracking down the man who cremated by baby fall on the crazy scale? Total lunacy?