Halloween's Unsung Heroes: A Mortician's Tale of Life, Death, and the Afterlife As the veil between worlds thins and jack-o'-lanterns flicker in the October twilight, most people's thoughts turn to ghosts, goblins, and things that go bump in the night. But for some, the realm of death is not just a once-a-year fascination—it's a calling and a career. This Halloween, we sit down with Sarah Thompson, a seasoned mortician with over two decades of experience, to explore the realities of working with the deceased and their bereaved families. Her insights offer a unique perspective on life, death, and the thin line that separates them. Sarah greets me in her office at Peaceful Pines Funeral Home, a tastefully decorated room that manages to be both comforting and professional. Family photos share space with her certifications on the walls, a reminder that those who work with death are very much alive. "People often ask me how I can do this job," Sarah begins, settling into her chair. "They think it must be depressing or scary, especially around Halloween when everyone's talking about zombies and rising from the dead. But the truth is, my work gives me a profound appreciation for life." Sarah's journey into mortuary science began in her late teens, sparked by an unexpected source. "I was always the kid who loved Halloween," she chuckles. "Not just for the candy, but for the way it made death seem less scary. It was like we were all acknowledging this big, frightening thing together, and that made it easier to face." This early fascination with death and its cultural representations led Sarah to volunteer at a local hospice during high school. "That experience changed everything for me," she recalls. "I saw how important it was for families to have someone compassionate and professional to guide them through one of the hardest times in their lives. I knew then that this was what I wanted to do." After completing her degree in mortuary science, Sarah worked at several funeral homes before landing at Peaceful Pines. Over the years, she's seen countless changes in the industry, from the rise of eco-friendly burial options to the increasing personalization of funeral services. "One thing that hasn't changed," Sarah notes, "is the human need for ritual and closure when facing death. That's something that connects us to our ancestors, to the very roots of Halloween and similar festivals around the world." When asked about the most challenging part of her job, Sarah doesn't hesitate. "It's the children," she says softly. "Preparing a child for burial never gets easier. But it's also where I feel I can do the most good, helping families find ways to honor short but precious lives." On the flip side, Sarah finds joy in helping families create meaningful farewells for their loved ones. "I remember one Halloween-themed funeral we did for an older gentleman who absolutely loved the holiday. His family brought in his extensive collection of decorations, and we transformed the funeral home into a wonderland of friendly ghosts and smiling pumpkins. It was exactly what he would have wanted." This willingness to personalize services is part of a larger trend Sarah has observed. "People are moving away from the somber, one-size-fits-all funeral," she explains. "They want to celebrate the unique lives of their loved ones. We've had services with costume parties, favorite movie screenings, even a posthumous cooking demonstration using the deceased's famous recipe." When it comes to the nitty-gritty of her work—the embalming, the cosmetic restoration, the physical handling of bodies—Sarah is matter-of-fact. "It's a science and an art," she says. "Our goal is to create a peaceful, comforting last image for the family. It's about giving them a chance to say goodbye without the shock of death's physical reality." I ask Sarah about the supernatural elements often associated with her profession, especially given the Halloween season. She smiles knowingly. "I get this question a lot, especially this time of year. Have I seen ghosts? Do the dead speak to me? The honest answer is no, at least not in the way people imagine." However, Sarah doesn't discount the deeply spiritual nature of her work. "There have been moments—a sudden wave of peace in the embalming room, a feeling of gratitude that doesn't seem to come from me—that make me wonder. I'm open to the possibility that there's more going on than we can see or measure." This openness extends to accommodating various cultural and religious beliefs about death and the afterlife. "We've worked with families who believe the spirit stays with the body for several days, others who want to personally wash and prepare their loved one, and some who request specific rituals to guide the soul to the afterlife. Our job is to facilitate these practices with respect and dignity." Sarah's work has given her a unique perspective on life and death, one that she feels is particularly relevant around Halloween. "This holiday, with all its fun and spookiness, serves an important purpose," she muses. "It helps us confront our fears about death in a controlled, even playful way. It's like a safety valve for our anxieties about mortality." She continues, "In my work, I see every day how fragile and precious life is. Halloween, in its own way, reminds us of the same thing. It tells us to enjoy life, to connect with our communities, to face our fears together." As our conversation draws to a close, I ask Sarah what she wishes more people understood about her profession. "We're not gloomy or morbid," she says emphatically. "We're caregivers, counselors, and yes, sometimes event planners. We're here to help people navigate one of life's most difficult transitions with compassion and respect." She pauses, then adds with a twinkle in her eye, "And yes, some of us do enjoy a good Halloween party. After all, who better to appreciate life than those of us who work with death every day?" As I leave Peaceful Pines, the setting sun casts long shadows across the manicured grounds. A few early trick-or-treaters are visible on the street, their excited voices carrying on the crisp autumn air. Sarah's words echo in my mind, a reminder that behind the spooky facades and candy-fueled excitement of Halloween lies a deeper truth: our shared human experience of life, death, and the mysteries that lie beyond. In the days leading up to Halloween, as we don costumes and carve pumpkins, perhaps we can take a moment to appreciate the Sarah Thompsons of the world. These unsung heroes work tirelessly behind the scenes, helping us face our greatest fear with dignity and compassion. They remind us that death, like Halloween itself, is not something to be shunned or feared, but a natural part of life to be acknowledged, respected, and even, in its own way, celebrated. As the veil between worlds thins this Halloween, let's remember that for some, that veil is always thin. Morticians like Sarah stand at that threshold, not as harbingers of doom, but as compassionate guides helping us navigate the ultimate transition. Their work, often unseen and unsung, is a testament to the depth of human empathy and the enduring power of ritual in the face of life's greatest mystery. So this Halloween, as you revel in the spooky and the spectacular, spare a thought for the real-life handlers of death. They're not the stuff of horror movies or haunted houses, but everyday heroes who help us face our fears, honor our loved ones, and find meaning in mortality. In their own quiet way, they embody the true spirit of Halloween: facing the darkness with courage, compassion, and just a touch of magic. This has been a Quiet Please Production. Head over to Quiet Please dot A I to “Hear What Matters”