This is about the umpty-leventh time I’ve started this.  I keep having to delete everything and start again because the longer I write, the angrier I get—and I don’t want to end up yelling at you or blaming you for the world as we currently know it.

I hate asking our directors to tell families they are limited in what they can do to honor the life of someone they love.  I hate having to tell families this magnificent idea they had that would allow them to work around the rules will put everyone at risk . . . not to mention the fact that it’s illegal.  It isn’t fair that their loved one’s life can’t be celebrated by all of their family and all of their friends.  They deserve more than what they are currently allowed, and oh, how I wish we could give it to them.  How I wish we could let the world come in and mourn together.  But instead our doors remain locked.  If your name isn’t on the list then you’re turned away.  It doesn’t matter where the service is held.  We have our orders from the Governor of our great state and those governmental offices that oversee our profession.  And we understand why it has to be this way.

Did you know that New York City has now moved mobile morgues to each public and private hospital in the city?  The COVID-19 deaths have overwhelmed their healthcare system and funeral homes; they are struggling to treat the living and to bury or cremate the dead.  New York may top the list of states as far as the numbers are concerned, but did you know Tennessee now ranks 15 ^th in the nation for confirmed cases?  That’s up two slots from two days ago.  If we were talking about the Billboard Charts that would be great . . . but we aren’t . . . and it isn’t.

Like it or not, we are currently at war, fighting an invisible enemy whose movements we barely understand.  Manufacturers are ceasing production of their normal products so they can convert to making life-saving ventilators, hand sanitizer, and masks as well as other types of personal protective equipment.  Our troops have marched into battle, but instead of wearing uniforms they’re clothed in scrubs.  Medical professionals have left their homes and their families in order to care for those who have contracted the virus . . . and to protect those they love most in this world.  It reminds me of the stories I often heard of the sacrifices made and the courage exhibited by our country during World War II.  It took everyone to win the war.  And everyone looked for what they could do—and then willingly made the commitment to do it.

But today?  I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  I’m afraid those who aren’t on the front lines don’t realize the war is being waged.  We don’t see first-hand the struggles of our healthcare professionals, the suffering of those who are ill . . . the death toll that is steadily rising . . . because it isn’t here.  Yet.  But it’s coming.  And by the time we realize it is, it will be too late.

That’s why it’s so important to stay home.  Don’t get out.  Don’t go to Wal-Mart just because you’re bored.  Parents, make your teenagers stay put.  You may not realize it, but there are still gatherings in parking lots and whatever they pick up there, they’ll bring home to you.  When we tell your family there is a ten person limit for the funeral service you’re planning, please understand the folks who made that decision are trying their best to save you from yourself.  Did you read about the funeral in Albany, Georgia that was attended by over 200 folks?  It took place before anyone realized what was happening, before a pandemic was declared . . . but not before the enemy had landed.  Within days, six of the nine remaining siblings were sick.  Dozens of others fell ill. A niece of the deceased died.  And between the funeral and the onset, hundreds of others were exposed.  They are a rural county, 40 miles from the nearest interstate (sound familiar?) and because of that one funeral and possibly one other, they have one of the highest rates of confirmed cases—and deaths—in Georgia.

You see, funerals are prime places for the virus to spread.  Our natural instinct is to reach out in comfort and support, to embrace each other as we grieve.  Now those very actions can be a literal death sentence for someone with a compromised immune system.  So if you aren’t one of the “chosen few” who will be able to attend a service, please don’t just show up.  The life you save may be your own . . . or a family member of the deceased . . . or one of our employees.

I’ve often preached that young people tend to believe they wear a cloak of immortality.  They seem to think they can take chances and death-defying risks and survive because “it won’t happen to them”.  Well, now I’m gonna preach it to the parents and everyone else who doesn’t seem to understand the danger.  You are not immortal.  You are not invincible.  If you don’t take the precautions recommended then you’re taking a death-defying risk, and not just for yourself. Everyone who comes in contact with you will also be taking that risk.  They just won’t realize it.  Think about your children.  Think about your parents.  Think about your spouse.  How much do you love them?  Is there a limit as to what you would do to protect them?  If not, then stay home.  It’s as simple as that.  Just. Stay. Home.

Please.

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.

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