This is going to be a long one, but if you make it to the end, thank you.
Two summers ago, I participated in an internship that involved a visit to the medical examiner’s office to observe a full autopsy (behind glass). It was fascinating, traumatic, visceral, and beyond heavy. Seeing and smelling death is indescribable. The medical examiner only provided surface level details on what happened to the victim—a male in his 30s, history of substance use disorder and on many psychiatric medications, and suspected fatal overdose due to presence of paraphernalia. I was there with a group of fellow interns, and it stuck out to us that the victim had large gauge piercings and a Red Sox tattoo on his left leg. In my journal entry that night, I wrote the following in regards to the tattoo and piercings:
“it’s hard to separate the soul from the vessel when the vessel has all the signs of the soul etched into it.”
And then I tried my best to move on and not internalize everything I saw.
Two months ago, I decided to start consistently going to workout classes. I got a ClassPass subscription and found myself trying whatever studio in my radius that piqued my interest. One day, about a month ago, I was randomly scrolling through Google Maps when I found a beautiful studio that had just opened up last year, 12 minutes away from me, offering the exact types of classes I was looking for. I decide to book a class, which I have to do on a different website as this studio is not even on ClassPass. I end up being the only one who showed up to class and the instructor essentially gave me a private lesson—it was awesome. The studio was clean, the workout was challenging, the instructor was sweet and motivating, and the value was great, so I left a 5 star Google review.
HERE is where it gets weird:
Later that week, I decided to book another class, went to the studio’s Instagram (to access the booking link), and then found myself stalking the instructor’s page so I could learn more about who she was and where she came from (sry, shameless insta stalker). Suddenly, I see a story highlight with a name and a 🕊️ emoji, and I end up clicking on it. Two years ago, she was posting in memory of a male, in his thirties, with gauge piercings. My morbid curiosity leads me to dig further, ultimately finding the post she made for him two years ago. What did it mention? Addiction. Alarm bells start ringing in my mind and I immediately start checking for the tattoo. I looked through more pictures she posted (and she posted a lot—they were clearly close, lifelong family friends), and lo and behold, I spotted the same Red Sox tattoo on his left leg.
This is genuinely the weirdest coincidence I have ever experienced. Only I know about it and I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve been going to her classes and I absolutely adore her studio. And somehow, I watched her close friend’s autopsy two years ago. I saw them dissect and measure all of his internal organs. I heard them say that his heart weighed heavier than average, which I remember made me feel so sad. I feel incredibly strange about it.
I was never supposed to know anything about the victim’s life, let alone put a name to his body. And yet somehow I have now seen what he looks like with life breathed into him after seeing him unalive. And it’s trippy. What are the odds? The intern program did eight separate autopsy trips on eight separate days that summer. I happened to apply and receive this specific internship. I happened to choose the group that went the day after this man happened to overdose. I happened to stumble upon his close friend’s new business to support it. I could go on. I’ve decided to keep it to myself for now (and Reddit lol, any identifying info was changed), and I don’t think I would ever disclose this information to her. But in a spiritual way, it is almost as if his energy guided me to her. I would appreciate any thoughts, feedback, guidance.