Lhe number of daily coronavirus deaths has been more than halved from the peak of 799 deaths recorded in New York on April 9, but the phone for the International Funeral & Cremation Services is still ringing nonstop.
During a recent visit, AFP saw two bodies arrive, brought in the trunk of a minivan that did not look like much.
In heels, manager Alisha Narvaez helps another employee, Lily Sage Weinrieb, carry one bag, then the other, on a stretcher, to their premises.
These bags, which contain the bodies of people who have died from COVID-19, are often recovered from one of the white refrigerated trailers that have been deployed in town for weeks.
“In some, the bodies are on the ground”, explains Nicole Warring, in an internship at the end of embalming studies, but put to use since the beginning of the crisis.
Caregivers want to avoid entering these nightmarish containers and sometimes leave funeral staff to fend for themselves, she says.
“I don’t want to step on someone and it’s a sea of bodies,” she explains. “It’s traumatic.”
About half of the requests the International Funeral & Cremation Service receives relate to victims of the coronavirus, explains Alisha Narvaez, who works nearly 80 hours a week and seven days a week, against a large 40 usually.
They are four women to run the business, in a calm that contrasts with the brutality of the epidemic in New York, where it has already killed more than 17,000 people, or more than one inhabitant in 500.
The establishment does not carry out cremations on site, but prepares the bodies, carries out administrative procedures, and organizes ceremonies in a room equipped for this purpose.
“Maintain dignity
“We have people calling from all over New York City because a lot of funeral homes are full,” explains Nicole Warring.
“People are desperate,” she laments. “They tell us: ‘They are going to send this person who is close to me to the mass grave. The hospital can no longer keep her. Can you help me ?””
Even by “running” to the right and to the left, sometimes going as far as Pennsylvania for a cremation window, the funeral home sometimes has to refuse requests.
“I tell them, ‘call me back in two days, and it breaks my heart,’” says Nicole Warring.
“Refusing people is the hardest part,” says Alisha Narvaez. “So I try not to do it. And that’s why we are overwhelmed. ”
The cellar is filled with bodies in cardboard boxes, intended for direct cremation, she explains, a painful spectacle that she prefers not to show. “It’s overflowing.”
“To maintain dignity in our services, we cannot overload the space,” she says.
“A lot of people who would never have considered it before choose cremation,” observes Lily Sage Weinrieb, an employee of the company.
When she gives the funeral urn to loved ones, she therefore takes the time to celebrate the event, to leave the sometimes disoriented families time for meditation.
“It’s tough,” said the mother of a teenage girl, in the business for 14 years. “Things have totally changed.”
“We have a waiting list […] so for us, it may remain a bit chaotic for the next two months, ”predicts this brunette thirty-something with long hair.
“I just hope it slows down,” she said. “I need a break. I need a vacation after that. ” With Thomas URBAIN
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