An office in which workers deal with death and dying shouldn’t be a cheerful place, right?

Wrong.

Social worker Kelly Lamkin said she and other Home Hospice of Cooke County staff members make their environment a place where life is beautiful, good memories are nurtured and death is another part of living.

It isn’t that her work is easy.

“Sometimes I close my door and cry,” she admitted.

It’s just that she can’t see herself doing anything else.

“This is my calling, my ministry. I’m where God wants me to be,” Lamkin said.

Her job as a social worker is her first and only professional position since she graduated from Texas Woman’s University 12 years ago.

Before that, she honed her caregiver skills as a preschool teacher.

She said social work was not her first career choice.

“If you had told me years ago that I would be doing this kind of work I would’ve said you were crazy,” she said.

Lamkin said her lifelong dream was to be an occupational therapist.

A Muenster native, she credits her teachers at a local parochial school with helping her develop a good work ethic.

“I’m am so grateful for the education I got at Sacred Heart (Catholic School),” she said.

“I wanted to be an occupational therapist. My inspiration was my therapist who began working with me when I was in the fourth grade and had to learn to use a prosthesis. She made therapy fun and was the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met,” she said.

Lamkin was born with one arm — a situation that did not hamper most of her daily activities.

Like many other young women, Lamkin went to a small community college — North Central Texas College — before transferring to a four-year university.

She was on her way to fulfilling her career goal when something went wrong.

“I had an interview with the occupational therapy department at TWU, and it didn’t go well. I don’t know why, but I was not accepted into the program,” she said.

She speculates that the staff members may have believed she wasn’t physically equipped for the rigorous OT program.

Dejected, Lamkin said she talked with a friend from her psychology class who pointed her in a new direction.

“My friend said, ‘You’re such a good listener, and you really get life. You should consider being a social worker,” she recalled.

Lamkin thought it over.

“I was used to helping others and listening to people. I met with members of the social work department and was accepted into the program,” she said. “I loved the classes and found a love for social work. I still keep up with some of my (college) friends.”

After college, Lamkin said she searched for a job for a time before learning about an opening at Home Hospice of Cooke County.

“I found out (about the job) on the last day they were accepting applications. I called about the job and found out the office closed at 5. I got off at 6. But they said they would leave an application for me in the door. I got the application, sat in the parking lot, filled it out and slipped it under the door,” she said.

She was delighted when she got a call for an interview, but the interview proved a bit unnerving.

“It was scary because I was seated around a table with all these people. They asked lots of questions. I thought it went well, but there were two other people being considered for the job,” she said. “I had the interview and then I had to go back to work. By the time I got back, there was a message for me to call home hospice. I got the job,” she said.

Lamkin has held various positions with the agency including bereavement coordinator -- a position that placed her in contact with individuals facing death.

“I was always there for my clients and their families to talk to,” she said, “I’ve lost loved ones, but I never really knew what it’s like to have a loved one dying until Dakota.”

She is referring to her beloved nephew Dakota Lamkin, an Era Elementary School student who fought cancer and succumbed to the disease last spring.

Lamkin said the devastating loss gave her insight into the home hospice families experience.

“What I went through with Dakota has made me much stronger in my job. He taught me a lot. He is why I’m still doing what I’m doing. I gain strength from him,” she said. “Now I can tell the families, ‘I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there.”

Lamkin was especially close to her nephew.

“He was so special. He was so strong. When he found out he was sick again, I cried and he was there trying to comfort me,” she said in an interview last year.

Her job also allows her to help people in practical ways.

“I can help with funeral services, DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) orders, paperwork,” she said.

Her job is also a personal journey.

“First of all, I am there to listen. It’s not about me. I take my lead from my clients. Some want to talk about death. Most don’t. They prefer to talk about their families, their childhood, things like that. I’ve held a lot of hands, both the living and the dying. I’ve seen a lot of wrongs made right and a lot of people who found God. It’s been the most beautiful touching experience,” she said.

She said she would like others to understand more about hospice.

“I want people to realize that hospice is not a bad thing. We don’t want to think about death, but we must prepare for it. We’re there to help people live until they die — until God calls them home.”