I watch people die for a living. Very rarely do the people I work for get better. Almost every single client I’ve worked with is dead. Tonight is no different. I’m watching every family member walk by and cry. I’m watching life drain from everyone’s face. I watch them weep as they walk away.
There’s an old saying that people can hear death coming—and I hate to say it, but with every breath my client takes, my anxiety skyrockets. Death is approaching fast, and it’s devastating to watch. I hate watching people die… it never gets any easier. It feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest.
Don’t get me wrong—my client isn’t family, and I usually only take care of them for about a year or less. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me. I learn about their lives, their habits, what makes them smile, and the people they hold near and dear to their hearts. It’s like you become intertwined with a family that’s not your own—and then you get shattered when they die.
You try not to care as much and just tell yourself it’s part of the job. But fuck, man. I just hope they go to heaven when they die. I hope someone saves them. I hope all the pain disappears. And I pray to God that I never have to watch someone die again.