I often start my day at 5 AM. I have a routine with my dog Pugsley that I dare not miss. I look forward to our routine. It is quality time for the two of us that is only rivaled by our ritual afternoon walks. A funeral service at 10:00 means that visiting starts at 9:00 and we typically have to be there much earlier to have everything set up. A church service requires us to transport everything, including the deceased to the church the morning of the service. We often are just finishing set up as the family arrives in the parking area, at which point I scramble to make sure everyone is parked where they need to be for the procession to the cemetery.
This was not one of those early days. These days always throw me off my game. With a service at noon, everything is pushed back a few hours. When I awake in the morning, I go into a completely different mode. Everything is a little more relaxed. Not so rushed as it typically can be. There was no snow to clear, the hearse was washed, gassed and ready for service. A sense of calm permeates the morning. Until I realize that I've got to leave in 30 minutes and I haven't even showered yet. I quickly rushed through my shower and shave and got myself dressed for the day. I was out the door right on schedule. I drove to the garage, switched cars and proceeded to the funeral home to pick up our guest of honor today and take him to the church. As I drove, I reached to straighten my tie. That's when I realized that I wasn't wearing one. I do not have enough time to scurry back home and get one. So I press on, hoping that someone at the funeral home will have a spare. Then I double checked everything else. Did I put on pants? Am I driving the right vehicle? Am I going to the correct funeral home? Wait! What day is it? What time was I supposed to be there?! Everything else checked out and I proceeded.
When I arrived at the funeral home, I informed the director of the situation. He did not have one, but assured me we would find one somewhere. We searched the employee areas, high and low. He went upstairs into the apartment thinking that surely there would be one there. He found one with a huge stain on it and would not let me be seen with such a mess, representing his establishment. To the basement we went. Into the preproom where another deceased man was awaiting his turn to be viewed by his family and friends. There it was, the perfect tie. The director looked at me, I looked at him. We both shrugged and I thanked the man for the use of his tie for the day and promised to return it before his viewing this evening.