My First Job part 2.
Let me emphasize that this experience has much more to do than with the work itself; it forced me to look back. To remember that teenager terrified of leaving her comfort zone, who after the lockdown begged to stay home and pursue her studies entirely online. That young woman who felt an inexplicable fear, and an even more incomprehensible shame, when walking down the street alone. I did not know how to name it back then, but now I recognize the fear that governed me. There was no room for spontaneity or for anything I had not planned in advance. And yet, how surprising it is to see how all of that has been dissolving like sugar these past few months.
I could describe my first day with enthusiasm and in full detail, although I suspect it might not be of general interest, since the day was essentially quite standard. I arrived at a garage with a small office at the entrance. Small, yes, but warm and sufficient. There, a coworker explained the basic bureaucracy that supported and made the work possible, making it clear to me, unintentionally, just how inexperienced and unprepare I really was.
Then I accompanied him to a church. As best I could, and with obvious clumsiness, I helped him unload the coffin from the funeral car, and together we dragged it up to the altar in presence of at least fifteen people. I watched his every gesture and movement. He must have felt my eyes fixed on him the entire time; I was practically his shadow. And even so, I can say I felt comfortable. Not just comfortable thanks to his constant patience and kindness, but comfortable with my own ineptitude. That was perhaps the most surprising part.
After the ceremony, we accompanied the family to the cremation center, where I witnessed the process for the first time. What struck me most, and the same thing happened the next day, was facing other people’s grief. How delicate and complex this work is in its human dimension. And dear reader, you may already guess: I do not exactly have a natural gift with people.
For now, it is my coworkers who handle the direct contact. But what will happen when it is my turn to take on that responsibility? I do not fear, but I do recognize that interacting with people (living ones) is something I have been running from, and now it is a reality I must face for a reason that, in my view, carries real weight. Perhaps this is a universal experience, but I felt as if what I was doing, this internship, was starting to make sense. It did not feel like a simple experience you take and discard, but rather a direct kind of learning. Real, tangible, and with consequences that actually stirred some concern in me. This newness feels as fascinating as it does unsettling. Is this part of beginning to be an adult?