It was Tuesday evening and most of us were trying to escape a workday that had mimicked a Monday in everything but name. Five o’clock had finally arrived and just before the phones were transferred to the staff member who would be answering them for the next 15 hours, they defiantly rang one more time. The secretary answered then reached for a first call sheet—that piece of paper where all the details of a death are recorded before we leave to make the removal. It’s a process that’s repeated quite often, one which most of us could do in our sleep. That doesn’t mean it’s become routine, only that we don’t often have immediate, emotional reactions.
But this time was different. This time we were being summoned to care for someone who had been a part of our work family for years.
I had known of Bobby Plunk for quite some time, but knowing of and knowing are two entirely different things. It wasn’t until he began sitting visitations at the funeral home that our relationship changed. I was generally present long after 5:00 PM so he and I often visited those nights when he was on duty. Bobby was the fourth sitter my mother hired, following in the footsteps of Jon Hutchinson and Jim Garey, and joining forces with Lewis Harrington. Jon came first—a perfect choice since he was semi-retired and, as a long-time local pharmacist, known and respected throughout the community. Not long afterwards, she added Jim Garey so Jon could have an occasional night off. Jim was a distinguished gentleman, soft-spoken and compassionate, whose years of work in public relations with the local papermill helped him easily relate to the families we served. He also fretted over me like he would his own child, always concerned when he was leaving at night and I was still working. What if someone carried me off? I assured him they would bring me back.
When Jon’s health forced him to resign, Lewis Harrington joined the crew. Lewis generally kept all of us in stitches with his observations on life, but his background as the music minister at First Baptist also made him the perfect person to serve families dealing with loss. So, first we had Jon and Jim . . . and then Jim and Lewis . . . and when Jim decided it was time to leave, Bobby came onboard. He had been an insurance agent for decades so again, everyone in the community knew him and many of them had come to him with their insurance needs. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t very long ago that I was speaking with a woman who kept insisting she had bought insurance from someone at the funeral home named Bobby. It took a while before I realized she didn’t mean he was at the funeral home when she bought her policy; only that she had seen him there during a visitation.
After 17 years of faithful service, Bobby’s health demanded his retirement as well—retirement which almost came much earlier, compliments of our new phone system. Having to forward the phones at the end of each visitation was a struggle and he blamed himself for not being able to figure it out. He was so pleased when we learned it wasn’t him but the pesky technology that was malfunctioning.
We had a little party for Bobby on January 28, 2020, marking the end of an era. The picture I chose to use with this blog is from that party and shows Bobby with the youngest attendee. See that smile on Bobby’s face? He was in his element when he was with children and always loved seeing them . . . unless they were running in the funeral home during a visitation. Or playing on the stairs.
So, when the phone rang at 5:00 on that Tuesday evening, a quiet descended on the building and a heaviness filled the air. It’s hard to lose someone you think of as one of your own, even if time and circumstances try to prepare you for the inevitable. Bobby spent a lifetime doing the things he loved . . . farming and raising cattle . . . spending time with his family . . . getting to know the people of his community and helping them; best of all, he was allowed to spend 72 of his almost 91 years on this earth with his beloved wife, Dossie Lou. So, rest in peace, Bobby. Based on our conversations I know you enjoyed your journey. I’m just so very glad we got to be a small part of it.
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.
