The rain poured down that morning. The sky was heavy, the streets slick underfoot. I felt a deep ache in my stomach, not from hunger or exhaustion, but something harder to explain. A kind of weight that comes when you’re about to step into a moment that means everything to someone else.
Walking in front of the hearse is something I’ve done countless times, but it never feels routine. Every funeral is different, every family carries their own story of love and loss. In those moments, as I lead the way, I carry their grief with me. But more than that, I carry their love, their memories, their hopes for what comes next.
Life, Loss & Living in the Present
Death is the one certainty we all share, yet we spend so much of our lives avoiding the thought of it. We busy ourselves with work, with social media, with distractions that keep us from facing what truly matters. But the thing about walking in front of the hearse is that it forces you to be present. There’s no phone, notifications, or emails, just the slow, steady pace, the weight of the moment, and the reminder that life is fragile.
That day, as the rain soaked through my coat, I thought about my own life. About my family, my wife, my children. About the nights spent rocking our new baby back to sleep, the early mornings balancing the demands of running a business, and the responsibility I feel. Not just to my own family, but to every family we serve.
It’s easy to get caught up in the rush of it all, to feel stretched thin between being a husband, a father, and a funeral director. But that morning, as I walked ahead of the hearse, I was reminded of something simple yet profound: the only moment that truly matters is the one we are in right now.
I’ve seen firsthand what happens when time runs out. The words left unsaid, the regrets of things not done. But I’ve also seen the beauty of a life well-lived, the laughter, the kindness, and the quiet moments of connection that stay with us long after someone is gone.
That’s why I believe in living with purpose. Not in chasing happiness as if it’s some destination we’ll reach one day, but in finding meaning in the everyday moments, in the people we love, the community we build, and the kindness we show to others.
We live in a world that constantly pulls us toward the past or pushes us into the future. But real life? It’s happening right now. In the conversations we have over dinner, in the way we listen to a friend in need, in the love we pour into our families.
If I’ve learned anything from this job, it’s that life is too short to be spent staring at screens, worrying about things we can’t control, or holding onto anger that no longer serves us. Put down the phone. Look people in the eyes. Say what needs to be said. Love fiercely, share openly, and care deeply.
A Call to Live with Purpose
As I reached the doors of the church that morning, I stepped aside, watching as the family took those next steps without me. My part in their journey was done, but theirs was just beginning, the slow process of healing, remembering, and finding ways to move forward while carrying their loved one with them.
Walking in front of the hearse reminds me, every time, that none of us get to know how long we have. But we do have a choice in how we spend the time we’re given.
So today, I ask you: What will you do with the time you have left?
Will you let distractions pull you away from what matters, or will you be fully present in your own life? Will you wait for the “perfect moment” to tell someone you love them, or will you say it now?
The rain that morning was cold. My clothes were soaked. But none of that mattered. Because in that moment, I was exactly where I needed to be, leading one family through their hardest goodbye, and carrying the quiet reminder that every one of us should be living, loving, and sharing while we still can.
Because at the end of the day, that’s all that truly matters.
Warmly,
Erich Falconer.
