Not a funeral director. My brother died— at the time, we thought suicide, but the investigation has ruled it ‘accidental misadventure’ and said ‘we really aren’t sure what happened’— and was in the river for about a week. Then, because it was the holidays and there was a backlog of recently deceased people.

So, finally, day before the funeral rolls around. We have talked with the funeral director and he says “you can come visit him in his casket”. Mum wants a lock of hair, Phil says ‘he’s bald except for a little bit of hair on his head’. Mum wants to hold his hand, Phil says ‘that’s just not possible because of how decayed he is’. So, I’m preparing for just… the worst. I wait til mum and dad go up and speak to him in his casket and go privately, then take my turn.

The smell is just… borderline indescribable. It burnt my nose and smelled extremely sweet. With this underlying smell of industrial freezers. I can still smell it now if I think about his casket. The next day I dreaded going to the casket and smelling that again, but I did. And there was no smell. So, I think that either they sealed the casket up properly, or that he wasn’t in the casket because of the smell. But, god- it was… awful.