… or how personal loss led me to a new beginning.
A few weeks ago, Facebook reminded me of a moment that marked a big leap into the unknown. Eight years ago, I swapped my job in the magazine world for a brand new challenge: working at the crematorium in Antwerp. To the casual outsider, that may seem like a strange move, but of course, this career switch didn’t happen overnight.
The seed was planted—oddly enough—on one of the saddest days of my life: the day my father died. A funeral had to be arranged—music, words, photos. I wanted to create a true tribute to my dad, and with the help of family and friends, we did. I probably drove the funeral director mad: trimming this part, asking for a specific version of a song just one day before the service, rereading the obituary for the hundredth time and spotting yet another tiny mistake. But he stayed patient and kind throughout. And I remember thinking: what a beautiful job this is—being there for people at their lowest and letting them feel that no request is too strange or too much when it comes to saying goodbye.
That seed kept growing, and I decided to take evening classes to become a funeral director. In hindsight, it took a fair amount of juggling, especially since my job at the time had just relocated to the middle of nowhere. But I made it through, and two years later I graduated. The only dark cloud on that day was the fact that my mother wasn’t there to see it—she had passed away just over a year and a half after my dad.
When I spotted a job opening at PONTES, the crematorium in Antwerp, I decided to go for it. I died a thousand deaths during the interview—pun intended. But they saw something in me, and I got the job. It meant saying goodbye all over again—this time to a career I’d spent twenty years building, as a journalist and editor. And to colleagues who had become true friends, who gave me a send-off I’ll never forget. The party that Facebook reminds me of every year.
What followed was an equally unforgettable time as a ‘Reception & Ceremony Assistant’ at the crematorium… but that’s a story for another day.
