Dear Loved Ones

Dear Loved One,

I am sorry for your loss. But I rarely say that to you. Me telling you how sorry I am does nothing to help you. I would prefer to show you by exceeding your expectations of me. While I cannot bat a thousand, I will do everything I can to be accurate, efficient, pleasant and understanding to show you I respect your grief. I want this process to be as easy as possible for you so you can move forward.

While my wonderful management team is always open to listening to my ideas and recommendations (shout out to my management team), I did not set the pricing. Yes, I agree that the third of a page notice you are running for seven days is pricey. I am not responsible for that but am happy to help you revise the notice if it exceeds your budget. Don’t think I disagree with you when you say obituaries should be free. But then I also think food and electricity and gasoline and rent and taxes should be free. No one listens to me about those things either. So I must ask you for payment, much to my chagrin.

I pray for you and your person. Every night, I remember the people I worked with that day. We may not be of the same faith. But I pray anyway. I figure, pray for them all and let God sort it out.

Grief. Grief is a horrible mistress. It makes people act in ways they would never dream of at any other time in their lives. Often that means lashing out at others who have done nothing wrong. I have sold a lot of advertising in my life. There is always someone who chooses to yell when they don’t like something about a product or service. It is inevitable in sales and customer service that you will come across people like this. But by far, the worst is the paid obituaries. I understand you are grieving. If I messed up, yell away. I will do everything I can to make it right. If I did nothing wrong, I will usually just let your screaming fit roll off my back. Why? Because the chances are good that the next caller will thank me for what I do. He will tell me that he just lost his wife of 60 years and he reads our obituaries every day. I will learn that he is a retired English professor and he can never find errors on our pages. I will hear a thank you from him and he will tell me that what I do makes a difference. I will cry after I speak with him and hear how his grief is effecting him.

Babies. Oh, babies. It has been decades since I started doing this. My skin has gotten thicker. I have gotten harsher. But every baby makes me crumble. I can never fathom what your pain is. The first child I ever got was a five year old, survived by his teddy bear. While all kids are hard, it is guaranteed that I will be spending some time away from my desk, trying to find composure, for each five year old’s obituary I receive. Because faith aside, I do not believe the phrase “five year old’s obituary” should ever be uttered.

Suicide. By far, for me, suicides are the absolute hardest. I have dealt with depression and suicidal thoughts and attempts my entire life. I am much better now. But whenever I receive a notice for a suicide victim, I have physical pain. My grief for your loss is overwhelming. I see what the aftermath of this action does to a wide community of people. I want so badly to tell you that it wasn’t done to hurt you. I long to say she did it because she thought you would be better without her. He did it because it was the only thing he could think of that would take away his pain. I know because I was almost there many times. But I can’t tell you that. I can just do all I can to provide you with excellent service. Obituaries for suicide victims, though, are different for me than any other. In these cases, you have helped me. Your heart wrenching grief reminds me of the pain that is caused to survivors of suicide. That fact has saved my life on more than one occasion. This may, in the end, be the very selfish reason I do what I do. Thank you for sharing your experience. It has made a difference in at least one life.

Lastly, thank you, dear Loved One, for trusting me to take care of something so important at such a difficult time. I promise to do my best.

Warmly,

Your Paid Obituary Specialist