Behind the Flames: A Conversation with a Cremation Operator

"In the end, we all return to the elements. Cremation is simply one path among many."

- Anonymous

Cremation is one of those topics that often stirs quiet curiosity. People wonder how it works, what really happens, and whether it's handled with care. At the same time, it can bring up concerns: Is it respectful? Is it safe? What does it look like behind closed doors?

This week, I had the opportunity to explore those questions in a very personal way. I interviewed my significant other, who works as a crematory operator at Warren-McElwain Funeral Home. With years of experience, and a deep sense of responsibility, he offered insight into the process, shared stories from his first days on the job, and opened up about the emotional side of his work.

Cremation can feel like an unknown for many. It is something people choose, but don't always understand. Rather than offering a textbook explanation, I wanted to bring a human voice to it. In this interview, we talk honestly about the process, the emotions, and the purpose behind the work. Whether you've already chosen cremation for yourself or a loved one, or you're simply curious. I invite you to read with an open mind and heart.

The Human Behind the Flame

Cremation may seem clinical from the outside, but there's a person that sits behind the flames. Flesh, heart, and soul. Someone who takes the weight of this work seriously. Before the machines are turned on and the paperwork is filed, there's a human being honoring the life that was.

As someone in death care, and who has witnessed many deaths in my nursing career, my significant other also walks a line between deep reverence and emotional separation. There's a term people often use to describe us- "Jaded"- but the truth is, when you are surrounded by death every day, you have to learn how to carry that weight without letting it consume you. You have to be able to create emotional space, so you can continue to show up again and again. For the families, and for your own life outside of this work. We both get told, often, "I don't understand how you do the work you do." The truth is someone has to do it. We both know, not many are willing to do this work, but it's work that we know is honorable.

In this section, I wanted to share a glimpse of that human. He's quiet about the work he does, but there's a deep integrity in how he approaches the role.

He never imagined this would be his path. When he first stepped into the world of cremation services, it wasn't part of a long-term plan, in fact, it wasn't in the job role listed. It was simply answering a call. Something that piqued his interest, or as he stated, "It was something listed that was different from all the other job listings." As of today, he has been in this industry for six years and has no plans to leave anytime soon.

Much like many death workers, there was a curiosity around death that called to him. As he recalls, his curiosity started at a young age from his experience of personal losses. He remembers when he was a child being at funerals for his relatives. Even in these days he was intrigued by funeral homes and always wanted to explore them. To this day, his curiosity about death continues.

Over time, this work became more than a job; it became a vocation. He isn't one for dramatics, but I hear the way he speaks about the work he does and the pride he takes. He slows down when speaking to the grieving families or even going out of his way to give a simple hug, just because he felt like they needed one in that moment. The way he double-checks identification, labeling, and the processes. Not just out of protocol, but because he understands the sacredness of handling someone's final moments on this earth. I have seen how he sifts carefully through the remains to ensure that families get their loved one's full cremains and that they don't get other particles that don't belong. Cremation is often reduced to heat and ash in people's minds, but for him, it's a process filled with care. From preparing the retort to ensuring each family receives their loved one back with dignity, every step matters. He's meticulous, quiet, and deeply respectful.

He didn't start in the crematory right away. When he was first hired at the funeral home, most of his time was spent in the office or on-call, supporting wherever help was needed. It took nearly a year before he stepped fully into the cremation side of things. Even his first body pickup didn't come until a couple of weeks in, and in that moment changed everything.

He still remembers that first call. The woman had passed away in her recliner, not in a hospital bed or even a traditional home setting, but in her recliner. Watching television, potato chips scattered around her lap. She had been there for a few days. It wasn't frightening, he said. Odd, yes, but not scary. What struck him most was how strangely normal it all seemed. Death, quietly present in the same room where someone once laughed, snacked, and lived.

That experience taught him something he carries with him still: this work is about constant adaptation. That first removal wasn't easy. Recliners, he learned quickly, aren't exactly designed with body transport in mind. You learn to make it work with what you got. Not because it's neat or convenient, but because someone has to. Someone who will do it gently without fear. He didn't flinch. There was no fear. Just an immediate, unspoken understanding that this role would demand equal parts presence, practicality, and reverence. And while many might imagine death care to involve clinical uniforms and gloves, that first day he was dressed in a full suit. A surreal juxtaposition: dressed for a business meeting, but kneeling beside a deceased woman in her recliner, gently preparing to lift her from the recliner into his arms.

From that moment on, he began to step fully into the deeper meaning and responsibilities of this role and cremations. Not just pushing buttons or processing forms, but honoring the end of someone's story, even if no one else was there to witness it.

Despite all the deaths he has handled and seen, he continues to be asked, "Why do you do this?" And sometimes the answer is simple: someone has to. But more truthfully, he does it because someone should. Someone who cares enough to see beyond "another body" and beyond the flame. There's an emotional toll, of course. Not every day is heavy, but some days leave a mark. There's a quiet grief that comes from proximity to loss, even if it's not your own. In this line of work, you learn to compartmentalize. Not to harden, but to function. That, too, is a form of respect.

Behind the Flames: A Walk Through the Cremation Process

Cremation may seem like a simple concept. Ashes returned in an urn, but behind that simplicity lies a detailed, highly regulated process guided by care, precision, and respect.

1.) Before anything begins, there's paperwork- a lot of it. In Kansas, the county coroner must authorize, even if the death had an official cause. The healthcare power of attorney must also sign off that the cremation is to be done. Lastly, the physician must also sign off on the death certificate, even if the document itself isn't present, they need the certificate signed and completed. Only then the process can move forward. If one of these is missing, he is not legally able to move forward.

But unfortunately, not everyone follows the rules, or they may forget some things (human nature). He shared that he's been delivered individuals without proper paperwork countless times, an experience that drives him absolutely crazy. Not only is it frustrating, but it's also illegal. "It puts everyone in a difficult position," he said. "Without authorization, my hands are tied. I cannot, and will not, proceed until everything is properly signed and submitted." With the process being delayed, this also delays the time in which families receive their loved one's cremains.

2.) Once the legal pieces are in place and everything is cleared, identification is confirmed. All individuals arrive with a tag secured around the ankle. This tag includes identification, which will end up being cremated with the person. At this stage, he creates a stainless-steel medallion with a unique number that will accompany the cremated remains throughout the entire process- from start to finish. It's not just for records. It's a promise: this person is known, seen, and accounted for.

3&4.) Then comes the preparation. The crematory machine, also known as the retort, goes through a pre-programmed warm-up cycle, reaching around 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit before it's ready. When it is ready, your loved one is placed inside feet-first. But not always. For those with more body mass, head-first placement prevents the main burner from directly contacting the fattiest portion of the body. This is crucial to avoid dangerous overheating, the kind that can cause the system to rise above 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit and even produce black smoke from the crematory stack. If this happens, the system needs to be shut down and monitored closely. It's not uncommon for the fire department to arrive if they see, or someone reports, the black smoke. The body will continue to burn from retained heat, much like food in the oven that's been turned off.

The process can last from one to two hours, depending on the person's body mass or the material they are in (wooden caskets take longer), he will begin the "repositioning" process. He continues to monitor the temperature and conditions. At this time, he will begin to use a tool to gently reposition the body, ensuring even exposure and full breakdown. He will continue to do this at intervals until the body has fully broken down. What's left at the end are brittle bone fragments. These are carefully raked out onto a cooling tray to rest for several hours, or sometimes overnight.

5&6.) Once cool, the fragments are sifted through. Metal screws, pins, teeth, hips, and even smalls chips from the retort itself are removed-sometimes by hand, sometimes with a magnet. These are separated and recycled when possible. The remaining bone is then placed into a machine called a processor or officially known as a pulverizer. This machine will turn the remaining bones into soft, fine ashes most people are familiar with.

7.) Finally, those ashes, are placed into a clear bag, tied to the medallion he created at the start, and labeled with a fresh name tag. They are returned to the family in a temporary urn, awaiting the rituals and remembrance that follow.

It's worth dispelling a few common misconceptions. People are never cremated together. Each person is placed into the retort alone, and the retort is brushed out between use to prevent mixing of remains. CREMATION IS NOT A MASS PROCESS, and it's not impersonal. It's controlled, deliberate, and dignified. As you were birthed alone, you will have your last moment alone.

There are also very specific rules about what can and cannot be cremated. Do's include anything combustible, meaning anything that is able to catch fire and burn easily. This includes clothing, blankets, stuffed animals, paper, and flowers. But the don'ts are serious: no plastics, no batteries, no jewelry, and definitely no weighted blankets (these often contain hidden plastic). When plastic is burned, it melts into a molten glob that sticks to the remains and can contaminate or even trap the ashes. Making it a difficult recovery and identification more difficult.

For him, it's not just routine, it's an act of reverence. He understands that cremation isn't just a technical process; it's deeply personal. Families often spend a significant amount of money, and he wants to ensure they are getting their loved one back in full, with as much care and accuracy as possible. It matters to him that the process is done right. Not only because of the law, but because it's what people deserve at the end of life.

The Emotional Weight

When asked what stays with him the most, he didn't hesitate. Cremating someone he knows or knew. "It's a surreal experience," he said. It's never something he expects. Yet in those moments, there's a strange blend of personal connection and professional duty. In some cases, families have expressed deep gratitude knowing exactly who is tending to their loved one. It's a familiar face that is present in such an intimate and final step.

But this line of work inevitably invites reflection on mortality. He admitted that one emotional challenge he quietly carries is the reminder that life is fleeting. That we are all moving toward the same destination, uncertain of when.

Some of the most difficult moments come when he receives someone who has died by suicide or victim of homicide; especially if they are young or a child. These moments are heavy. They linger. "It sticks with me," he said simply. There's grief not just in the loss, but in the unrealized future - the unspoken "what could have been." And when he attends their services, he doesn't just see the person who has passed, he sees the ripple effect. The empty spaces. The Lives rearranged in the absence of another.

As someone who walks beside families in both life and loss, hearing my significant other speak so openly about the emotional weight he carries reminds me how deeply human this work is. Behind every process is a person. Someone who sees, feels, and carries these moments in ways we often don't discuss. We have both witnessed how deeply loss affects those left behind each in our own ways. For me, through years in the medical field and in the work I do now, I have learned that the final moments of someone's life, and how we speak to their loved ones during that time, leaves an imprint that lasts forever. The words we choose, the presence we offer, and the compassion we bring truly shape the experience. This is why these conversations matter. This is why care matters in the field of death.

Closing Reflections: Making it Your Own

As we closed our conversation, I asked him what he hopes families understand about cremations. His answer was simple but powerful: you have the ability to make it your own.

While the technical process of cremation may follow a set sequence and regulations, this process can be entirely yours to shape. Rituals, the meaning, the moments of remembrance, and traditions. Whether it's a quiet process, playing a favorite song in the background, or a ceremony rooted in your cultural or spiritual traditions, families often find meaningful ways to honor their loved ones.

Not all funeral homes allow viewings before cremation or during, but Warren-McElwain does offer this option. Giving the families the opportunity to say their final goodbyes in a way that feels right to them. In this way, cremation can carry the same depth, intentionally, and reverence as burial.

You may not be able to alter the fire itself, but you can choose how you hold the space around it.

If you have questions about the process or would like to share a story or tradition of your own, I welcome you to reach out. These conversations matter, and your experiences help bring meaning to the way we care for one another at the end of life.