Archive for cremated remains

CJ Takes A Reader’s Request

Posted in Comedy, Fiction, Fictional, Fact-based Stories, Humor, Personal Opinion, Thought For Today, Wisdom with tags , , , , , on January 4, 2015 by Morguie

CJ has been asked to address an issue, by a follower, Ted,  over at Twitter. She decided to tackle this most interesting request, as gently as she could, so as not to send people away in a cold panic.

Okay, Ted. If you simply must know…

English: Dryer screen containing accumulated lint.

Dryer screen containing accumulated lint. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


One might easily believe this conclusion could be valid. However, upon closer inspection, nothing could be further from the truth.

You see, dryer lint is a gradual gathering, or harvesting, of the sock’s essential tissues. In effect, what you have here is actually a case of, well, organ stealing. There. I said it.  Every time a sock enters into that Hose zone known as the dryer, small, evil (and invisible to the eye) entities actually deploy,  going to work in excising parts from the sock-body; a sock-heart today, the sock-stomach the next time, you see where I’m going.

Don’t believe me? Go. Right now. Go open your sock drawer and examine any pair of socks. Look closely, you may detect an actual hole starting in the toe or heel of the socks. Sneaky, insidious, and oh so gradually.

English: A white sock.

A white sock. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Then, one day, the entire sock is gone. You’ll search all through that load of drying to find the mate to a single sock. Well, I am here to say, just stop looking. It is no use. You’ll never find it.

Those entities try, but rarely succeed, in taking all the ‘snatchings’ as they make their hasty getaway when the buzzer goes off. (You will notice the white bits in the lint — evidence of sock-bone snatchings they dropped as they escaped out the duct)

And that is what dryer lint is really made of.

Dryer lint is the sloppy result of thieves engaging in sneaky harvesting of sock-body parts.

12th-century cotton sock, found in Egypt. The ...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)





I hope this will clarify things, Ted.

©C.S. Thompson, 2015.

EPISODE 21 — Final Flight

Posted in Airplane, Airplane crash, bereavement, Cemetery, Death, Grief, Loss, Mortuary, Tragic death with tags , , , , , on July 21, 2013 by Morguie
Cessna 182T 'OK-POH'

Cessna 182T ‘OK-POH’ (Photo credit: Hawkeye UK)


In recent weeks, there was an item in the paper, about 2 small paragraphs in length. It was incredibly brief but hit with huge impact. It described an airplane crash in Alaska that killed two families from Greenville, South Carolina. Go ahead; let that soak in for a minute. There were nine people killed between the two families. That is unspeakably tragic. Imagine being a child who went to school with several of the children in that city. It will be very difficult to explain to that child why their classmates will never again be seated in class or on the playground at recess time.

Sometimes CJ is asked what the very worst sort of thing has been to see in her mortuary career. She says they have been many awful sights before her there, but air crash victims rank at #1 or #2 on the list. Why? Because air crashes involve such force upon impact, but on top of this destructive force, there is nearly always incredible heat from fire. Charred bodies are an awful thing to see, smell, or touch. In addition, thermal stress fracturing causes a body to twist and bend into unnatural poses. Sometimes, when there is a face still visible, it is impossible to avoid thoughts of that person’s final agonizing moments on this earth. The faces are frozen in time showing extremely disturbing expressions which incredible pain and terror are easily read. Usually, though, there aren’t faces.


On a hot summer day, CJ was just finishing up work on a case in the prep-room when the intercom rang. Mr. Becker needed her to accompany him to the crematory. Together they rode in the van out to the cemetery, where the crematory was located. It was quite a lovely, if not scorching day. CJ loved being out in the cemetery. On a good day there wieeUnitretortould be many wild birds, lizards, and even a coyote on occasion. In the evening it would cool with a light breeze and be a tranquil place, indeed.

As they pulled up to the back of the building, CJ’s focus on the work returned. She had no idea what she would be walking into as they entered the large room housing the ‘retort.’ That is an overall word for the massive cremation unit. Mr. Becker’s crematory was only a few years old, so the unit was state-of-the-art. Bright shiny steel with colored buttons and gauges, a digital read-out for the temperature. An electric door opened to reveal a large, smooth brick surface and overhead burners and vents. CJ kept the unit immaculately cleaned; when she finished a body there, she swept every bit of the remains cleanly from the chamber. (Over her short career, CJ would cremate hundreds and hundreds of people.)

Body bag

Body bag (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

They walked over to the small cooler there and Mr. Becker opened the door to reveal a single body bag on the roller. They needed to decide how to best manage the remains inside the bag. CJ gasped when the bag was unzipped…

Mr. Becker explained that this was all that was recovered from a small Cessna crash in the remote desolate region of the county. This was all that was left of a man and his two teenaged boys.

CJ looked incredulously down at an incredible mass of charred remains, in which a phenomenal amount of shrapnel had become embedded. The thoughts that raced through her mind were unreal; she kept mentally trying to picture this ghastly, massive, burned ‘glob’ as ever having been three separate human beings. It was her first time dealing with such a situation. First air crash remains she’d ever laid eyes on.

This was an exceptionally rare situation indeed. How would they handle this? The laws strictly prohibit the commingling of bodies or remains. There were three people here! In one metal-studded unnatural conglomeration. Mr. Becker said the coroner had documented the condition of the bodies from the accident, along with photographic evidence,   justifying the necessity for all three to be placed into the retort and cremated together. No laws were being broken this time. Only the laws of nature, perhaps. Mr. Becker left her to go back to the mortuary.


CJ numbly completed the paperwork, placed 3 identification medallions into the retort with the glob of bodies, and began the process of finishing what the fiery crash had not — rendering the mass into bony rubble. When the cycles were complete, CJ swept the remains out of the chamber, realizing that before she could pulverize the bone into a powder,  she would first need to hand-pick the shrapnel and metallic bits out. This took a great amount of care and time. She set out three temporary urns, each had their own label affixed, and readied them for filling. She would divide the powder three ways.

 As the remains cooled in the large tray, she read the reports and learned that the man and his sons had come to the U.S. on holiday, from Europe. The father was an experienced pilot who rented the newer plane from a coastal airstrip. They were due to reach their destination about 75 miles east of where the crash had occurred. The witnesses in the local area had observed the attempted landing on a private airstrip, and reported seeing the plane overshoot the dirt runway before crashing into a hill. There were no services at this strip and worse, no water or nearby first responders. The plane burst into flames on impact and the three perished in the fiery wreckage. Tears began to roll down CJ’s cheeks as she signed her name on the cremation documents. All of the urns were to be mailed to an address in Europe. The family had come over without the wife and mother, as she had just had a baby, according to some of the notes the coroner had included in the report.


CJ finished up and silently got into the van when Mr. B returned to pick her up. The beautiful summer day in the cemetery had been forgotten. CJ could not get the tragedy of this day’s tasks out of her head. She quietly offered a prayer for the remaining family, her heart aching for the woman who had probably smiled and blown kisses to her husband and boys as they departed for their adventure. She would soon be receiving them in plastic boxes with only her precious memories of them to comfort her in this most sorrowful time of darkness.

©2013, C.S. Thompson.

EPISODE 14 — Ashes to Ashes Just Gathering Dust

Posted in bereavement, Death, Funeral home, Grief, Loss, Poetry with tags , , , , on June 12, 2013 by Morguie

**Dedicated to all of the souls of the departed, in funeral homes across the globe, whose cremated remains rest in urns on the shelves, and for reasons unknown are left unclaimed, never taken home.**


“Ode to a Tiny Urn”

  by Colleen S. Thompson


Oh precious baby, sitting here all alone,

Why didn’t they come to take you home?

They left you here on this shelf,

In an urn, years ago, all by yourself.



Their sorrow for you was so immense,

The heartbreaking loss was too intense;

The “why” and the “how” just made no sense.


The tragedy created a terrible rift,

The blame, the guilt; they began to drift.

They argued and fought, an order was sought;

If one couldn’t have you, and the other could not,

Then no one could have the urn of the tot.


An unfinished war that death had wrought,

The battles waged had been for naught-

Time had faded from memory and thought,

This urn of a baby that time forgot.

©2013, C.S. Thompson.

Miss Lou Acquiring Lore

Gallery of Life...

Poems & People

what if poems could be symphonies, and people their orchestra?

Remora Philippines

GPS Vehicle Tracker - Philippines


Everyday thoughts and life mysteries


Der Luftfahrt Blog

Sandys Secret Jar Of Success

Journey to Aim and Reclaim

Recruit 5-10 Reps Per Month

Network Marketing Mastery




“Go then, there are other worlds than these.”

Eastern Lightning

Eastern Lightning, the Church of Almighty God was created because of the appearance and work of Almighty God, the second coming of the Lord Jesus, Christ of the last days. It is made up of all those who accept Almighty God’s work in the last days and are conquered and saved by His words. It was entirely founded by Almighty God personally and is led by Him as the Shepherd. It was definitely not created by a person. Christ is the truth, the way, and the life. God’s sheep hear God’s voice. As long as you read the words of Almighty God, you will see God has appeared.


Artist and Desert Dweller with Big City Style.


Lets share information about everything started from business to services & allow others to know your "X" Factors.


Book recommendations, inspirational quotes, writing, books, blogging and social issues

Bravely Being Jen

be you


A Life's Worth of Observations from a Songwriter and Sound Engineer


Asla İdeallerinden Vazgeçme Asla! Never Give Up Your İdeals Never!

Bones Don't Lie

Current News in Mortuary Archaeology and Bioarchaeology


The World's leading success industry

Here at last, we shall be free.

The journal of Iain S. Thomas.

Lisa Tiller

This blog is about whatever is currently taking my fancy.

How to Make an Alien

It's as easy as 1, 3, 2

Just A Small Town Girl...

Just your average 27 year old diagnosed with E.W.S. at birth... AKA Excessive Writing Syndrome :)


Ali. Elzubair

Dr. K. L. Register

Just a small town girl who writes about Christian stuff.

Expressive Ponderings

Fiction, photography, thoughts and other ponderings

Climactic Rhyme

Searching for the Poetry in Everything

Where to next?

Riding in cars with dogs

SUGIH forever

Prince Dreamer constructs all his dreams!

My Aunt the WAC

Marian Solomon's midlife transition from the farm to the Women's Army Corps (WACs)


A blog by Dr. Abhinav Majumder

What I Know

manatees & dimsocks


Government, Economics and Figure Skating

BBR Productions Inc,

Bringing Reality to your Dreams

%d bloggers like this: