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; it was a tradition they knew they would miss terribly. So, while planning his send-off, his son Sammy suggested they place the phone in his casket. That’s when his wife, Marian Seltzer (who is also a defense attorney) decided it should be fully charged. And his account should remain active.
In 2008 The New York Post reported Marian was still paying the Verizon bill, something she never saw herself discontinuing. She can’t access any messages left on the phone (which by now is most certainly as dead as . . . well, you know . . .) because she doesn’t have John’s PIN, but she routinely calls the number just to update him on family affairs and sports news, as do his two sons. As a matter of fact, his son Simon placed the very first call into the afterlife . . . during the committal service at the cemetery, startling the mourners who were present and nearly giving the grave crew a collective heart attack.
Marian was so taken with the idea of people still being able to “contact” John that she had his cell number engraved on his monument. Right under the words “Rest in Peace”—which seems a bit contrary to that thought. Now, whenever anyone calls the number, they’re greeted with “Hi. You've reached the voicemail of John Jacobs. After you hear the beep, leave a voicemail and I will return your call.” Of course, he never does (thank goodness), but his family and friends still get to hear his voice.
To be clear, I have no idea if Marian is still alive . . . if the account is still active . . . if the voicemail message remains the same . . . The only references I can find to John and his Motorola T720 are from articles written in 2008 and one in 2011 (which doesn’t specify if you can still reach John by way of his cellular device). And I won’t call because if John’s account has been closed, then his number was assigned to some other poor, unsuspecting soul who’s probably very tired of getting calls for John Jacobs. And I can’t imagine how the callers would feel if a living, breathing human being were to answer the phone.
Marian Seltzer isn’t the only person who has chosen to deal with loss in this manner. Charles Whiting, also of New York, kept his wife Catherine’s voicemail active just so he could hear her voice in the years that followed her death—something he almost lost when Verizon made changes to their system and her message defaulted to the original. Fortunately for Charles, a contractor for the company found an archived version of her greeting and was able to reload it to the system—a deed for which Charles was eternally grateful. The deletion of the original recording made him feel as though he lost his Catherine all over again.
Today there are numerous other, far-less-expensive-than-a-cell-phone-bill ways to stay in touch with those who’ve gone on before. Facebook is one. If you visit the page of someone who has died you may find messages from friends and family members that speak of how much they are missed while filling them in on all sorts of news. Memorial pages can accomplish the same thing. We’ve even seen the tribute pages on our website used in this manner. One in particular comes to mind, one where a certain family member often left messages on birthdays and holidays as well as the latest updates regarding births and deaths. It always warmed our hearts to see them “stay in touch”. . . to know they still remembered and still cared. The only downside to these methods is they rely on the written word rather than those that are spoken. There’s a surprising amount of comfort in hearing someone’s voice again, even if it’s only “Hi. I can’t come to the phone right now . . .”
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
