Visiting A Funeral Home

I know at some point that everyone has had an opportunity to visit a funeral home, at least once in their lives. Most people visit funeral homes quite often throughout their lives. Usually it's when a co-worker, good friend or a family member passes on. Or, you're a support person for friend or family member who's lost a loved one. They attend a viewing of the deceased. Go to the funeral or both. People see the comfort and the serenity, almost feeling like it's someone's home, though it really isn't. They sit there upset, and in tears mourning a loved one. They spend time with their family and friends reminiscing with people not seen in many years. Due to the passing of my mother last week, I had to call to set up an appointment with a funeral home. So I had the opportunity to visit one recently and really seen a funeral home. With many fresh cut flowers, a cozy atmosphere, trying to represent comfort and life. When actually all you see is the funeral home for what it really is, flowers that will die and to get a chill up the back of your spine from the uncomfortable eerie feeling.

The chosen funeral home was Estes Leadley Funeral Home on Washtenaw St. in downtown Lansing. A rather large beautiful Victorian home which had been converted to hold this family owned and operated business. This funeral home has been around the Lansing area serving families for nearly a decade now. A seemingly beautiful and peaceful, very well kept building. Which they must pay a lot for maid service just for the up keep this house is so big. The house is full of antiques, artifacts, statues and a lot of very old paintings from around the 18th century. The owners were trying for a warm and cozy look and feel. Trying to utilize calm yet brilliant colors; mostly earth tones with a blend of vivid reds, dark blues and pale pastels. The furnishings throughout was beautiful and antique, in hopes to set a certain level of comfort.

As I'm walking into the establishment with my oldest daughter Aushia, and we're looking around at the place, both of us are in awe because of the beauty. We were greeted by the receptionist, as we walked into the parlor. She welcomed us with a very sweet smile and the tone of her voice was so soft I could barely hear her, as she asked us to have a seat. An older woman, short and portly shaped, with shoulder length curly dark hair. Her eyes so blue they looked like the early evening sky. She was nicely dressed in dark blue suit with a skirt and platform heals. I had spoken with her briefly earlier on the phone to set up an appointment, to speak to one of the Morticians about my mothers and her final wishes. She seemed to fit her soft and quiet demeanor, with her creepy overly nice attitude.

As we sat and waited for one of the morticians, man by the name of Jeremy, for whom we had the appointment with. Sitting there