I'm Sorry. Is That Yours?

A visitor sought me out in the lobby of the funeral home one afternoon with a look of distress in his face. “I was sent to the wrong room. That wasn’t my friend.” I checked the directory of the busy mortuary. After all, there was a possibility that he was misdirected. However, the location was correct. Further inquiry made me aware that he hadn’t seen his friend in a while. My boss, a friend of the decedent, said, “Oh, he lost so much weight. But, he looks really good compared to when I visited him in the hospital last week.” I visited the room and found the family. At my request, the widow shared a photo from her wallet. NOW I understand why the friend was so distraught. I excused the family from the room and went to work. When I welcomed them back, he had been restored to his healthy weight. The once numb mourners broke down in tears. It was a relief to see him ‘okay’. He had been sick so long. Seeing him looking ‘normal’ was a salve to their aching hearts. My boss, who was not an embalmer, had no thought of him being able to look any differently than his last appearance. Stunning. I eventually opened my own place and felt that not only the deceased should look like themselves, but the room as well. Case in point… She was a young 40-something when she died of cancer within 6 weeks of her diagnosis. The husband, crazed with anger over the misdiagnosis, was venting on me (Have you hugged your funeral director today?). I knew that personalization was key to his need for people to understand his loss. We parked her Harley next to the casket, along with her riding jacket, helmet and a couple trophies. Pictures were everywhere. It was impossible to walk in that room and not know whose it was. You may have heard of stuff like this before, but I was doing it in the early 80’s. The surprising plus was that the press found out and showed up. There was a full-page spread of this man talking over the back of his pew with the casket and hog in the background, sharing how wonderful his wife was and why he loved her. Fast forward to present day... I attended the closed casket service of the father of a friend. The man with a collar stood by the casket at the cemetery and delivered a service that was about 20 minutes worth, but he left out one very important component… the NAME. I could have been at the funeral of ‘Mrs. Smith’, when I was looking to attend for ‘Mr. Jones’. So, now after 35 years of caring for the integrity of the person’s appearance and the room’s identity, from Harleys to personalized casket corners, I find myself giving the same effort to the service itself. It should be impossible to mistakenly sit through the wrong venue. Let’s talk about why this person was special; how their life was ‘worth it’ and why everyone is sitting in the room today. So, who’s your client? Are you helping them be all that they can be? And you? Is your mark unmistakable? To quote Mr. Rogers, “There’s nobody else exactly like you.” 2008-05-16T13:36:44Z

-22.9424

349 944

true

7604

im-sorry-is-that-yours

2008-05-18T17:39:01Z

Is your product unmistakably you? And does it help your client base know that you see who they are? Break through the paradigms that hold you hostage.