logo-image

#LivingRocks

Lisa Thomas • Nov 22, 2022

Abby: “Gibbs, I want to celebrate the fact that you are a builder and . . . a catcher of bad guys, and a man of gleaming silver hair.”

Gibbs: “Abby, what are you doing?”

Abby: “People said such nice things about Tom Morrow this morning, and it just made me realize that we shouldn’t wait until people are gone to celebrate them, so I’m starting a movement:  #LivingRocks. Although I’m a little bit afraid that people might think I’m talking about an actual rock that’s alive, although that would be really exciting, too.”

McGee: “Abby, I think the fact that you’re celebrating people is awesome.”

Abby: “McGee, I want to celebrate that you can light up a room as fast as you can ping a phone.”

McGee: “Well, thanks . . .”

So goes the conversation in the lab of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service—or NCIS, as the television drama is known. Their former director, Tom Morrow, had died in the line of duty, and his funeral had taken place that morning . . . a service where people obviously did what you do at funerals—share memories and observations that speak highly of the individual.  And Abby Sciuto, quintessential science geek and quirky genius, has come to a monumental conclusion.  Everyone waits until you’re gone to say nice things about you.  Perhaps instead, they should strive to say nice things to you.  And so begins her #LivingRocks campaign.

I know we all have people in our lives who are our living rocks . . . the anchors that hold us in place through the storms . . . the roots that have nourished and supported us through the years.  Have you told them how much you appreciate them?  Have you taken the time to simply say thank you . . . and I love you?  Or to possibly even return the favor? It’s so easy to believe there’ll always be another opportunity.  Another chance to tell someone how much they mean to you. But we all know, even if we’re unwilling to acknowledge it, that the day will come when there are no more opportunities.

In this season of thanksgiving, midst the chaos of life and the holidays and all that goes with each, take the time.  Find the people who mean the most to you and tell them.  Tell them. Don’t wait until tomorrow or the “right moment” or the next time you see them.  Make the time.  Make the opportunity.  Make the effort so you can say it to them . . . not about them.  Let’s start our own movement in real life and keep it going all year long.

#LivingRocks.

 

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 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.
By Lisa Thomas 14 Feb, 2024
We didn’t meet under the best of circumstances—I was the funeral director and he was the husband grieving the imminent death of his wife.
More Posts
Share by: