logo-image

In Recognition

Lisa Thomas • Mar 10, 2021

It was a Sunday . . . the Sunday before a Monday holiday . . . so for many in the country, it was a long weekend filled with family and friends and fun and such.  For us, it was a work day.  A family arrived that morning, prepared to spend a few hours with one of our funeral directors, planning a service for someone they had loved and lost and wanted to honor.  They came with her clothes and their pictures for the video and the details of her life swirling in their heads, soon to be written down as they sat and shared their stories.

The only person they saw that morning was the funeral director.  They didn’t see the secretary who was on call, the one sitting in the office, waiting for the personal information sheets so she could begin entering the information into the computer which would then allow her to print the register book and the memorial folders for the visitation.  They didn’t see her log in to the website and update it with funeral arrangements and the obituary she had written.  They didn’t see the members of the grave crew who would arrive later to open the grave since the funeral was scheduled for the next day.  Nor did they see the housekeeper who was making certain the bathrooms were clean and well-stocked with soap and toilet paper and paper towels, and the lounge was ready for their use . . . or the staff member who made the trip out of town to bring their loved one home . . . or the embalmer who spent hours working to erase the visible effects of the illness that took her life.

On any given day, you will find all the folks mentioned above, and many more, working tirelessly to serve the families who have called on us in their grief.  It isn’t an easy job.  None of it.  Not the secretarial work or the cemetery work or the housekeeping . . . and certainly not the tasks assigned to the funeral staff.  For us, they answer the phones every evening from the hours of 5:00 PM to 8:00 AM and all day on Sunday. They get up in the middle of the night, put their work clothes back on, and go to the hospital or the nursing home or to someone’s house because a death has occurred and a family has asked that we be called.  And then they return at 8:00 the next morning, ready to face whatever the day may bring.

Our charge, as a collective group, is to take the stories the families bring to us and gently hold them; to preserve them and, as much as we are able, to share them with the world.  In the overall scheme of life, this is our solemn duty—to honor the dead by memorializing their life while walking with the living as they navigate those first few days of loss.

Why am I using this forum to write about the dedication and compassion of our employees . . . of all true funeral service professionals?  Because Thursday, March 11 th  is National Funeral Director and Mortician Recognition Day.  For the last several years, I’ve posted the picture you see with this blog and thanked everyone for everything they do.  I want them to know how important each and every one of them is to our work . . . whether they clean the building or process the paperwork, whether they work directly or indirectly with the families to carry out their wishes.  It takes a special person to choose this life—and I want everyone to know, we have some of the best around.  So to the secretaries and the accounting folks . . . to the maintenance men and the housekeepers . . . to the grave servicing personnel and the funeral staff . . . for the long hours and the heavy days, for your dedication and compassion and service . . .

Thank you.

 

 

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

By Lisa Thomas 24 Apr, 2024
It was 3:00 in the morning when my cell phone rang. Which is rarely ever a good thing. Maybe that’s why I bolted upright in the bed while simultaneously grabbing for the offending piece of technology.
By Lisa Thomas 17 Apr, 2024
I have a confession to make. There are days when I’ll set the air conditioning on 65 and get the house cold enough to hang meat . . . and then light the fireplace.
By Lisa Thomas 10 Apr, 2024
If you’re a semi-regular reader, then you know I’ve been enduring that right of passage known as “The Packing of Parental Possessions”. For the last several months, the focus has been on cleaning out the apartment they occupied for 30 years . . .
By Lisa Thomas 04 Apr, 2024
When John Jacobs died of pancreatic cancer on October 29, 2005, his family was devastated. The New York defense attorney believed in staying connected to those he cherished the most, something he managed to accomplish by calling them three or four times a day on his beloved Motorola T720 cell phone . . .
By Lisa Thomas 28 Mar, 2024
There’s a place I’m privileged to visit on occasion—a civilized wilderness of sorts—where very few people intrude and my desire for hermitism (not to be confused with hermetism which is a philosophical or religious system based on the teaching of Hermes Trismegistus . . . mine just means I like being left alone) is fulfilled.
By Lisa Thomas 20 Mar, 2024
I am a lover of words and occasionally manage to put them together in a half-way decent manner. Ask me to speak to you spontaneously . . . off the cuff . . . with no preparation . . . and my brain freezes.
By Lisa Thomas 14 Mar, 2024
In a bookcase in the office in Savannah, you’ll find all kinds of books, mostly on grief (which makes perfect sense given that it’s an office in a funeral home).
By Lisa Thomas 07 Mar, 2024
When my daughter was in second grade the music program at her school disappeared. I don’t remember if it was a lack of personnel or a lack of funding or a lack of personnel caused by a lack of funding . . .
By Lisa Thomas 29 Feb, 2024
On November 21st of 2021, I wrote the blog “The Ultimate Reminder” about a gentleman I’d literally known all my life . . . about his acknowledgment that his circle of older family members and friends was rapidly dwindling . . . about how hard it was to watch them leave.
By Lisa Thomas 22 Feb, 2024
Recently local and national news outlets picked up the story of Pauline Pusser’s exhumation, turning it into front page news and lead stories.
More Posts
Share by: