2:15 A.M. I'm startled from my slumber by a ringing phone. Judging by the stark black, it's well into the night, not yet time for the receptionist or director to have made their way to work.
Most days I bring a cordless into the room. Four guys who sleep deeply should have as many phones as possible in this business. Each late night call carries its own significant weight, and it's a responsibility we can't afford to drop. I almost always have a phone. Today, I forgot.
I leapt from bed, taking off down the hall. I'm fairly certain I woke at the start of the first ring, which is unusual, but good for the rest of the guys who get to sleep through until morning. I picked up the phone in my usual fashion, "________ Funeral Home, this is Dan."
"Hi, ... Dan Lugo?"
Surprised, "...Yes..."
That was about the last thing I expected to hear on the other end. Turns out the voice on the other side knew me, and knew me right from the start. Most people know I live here, so that didn't shock me; but it was truly unexpected. Thankfully, the voice continued, identifying itself as a friend I see regularly. Though it's not necessarily a close relationship, it is a strong one based on trust and respect.
As you can imagine, this friend had a loved one pass away. And I was the person to field that call. In this once-in-a-lifetime moment, I was the person to pick up.
I've heard my name said hundreds of times before. But never like that. It was a voice of relief, followed by, "I knew you would answer the phone," which sounded like it was coming through up-turned corners of a mouth. For a person in that situation, that says a lot. I was glad to be the one to answer.
One of the funeral directors this morning talked with me about it. He said when he was just three months into directing, he went on a "removal" (the technical term for picking up a body from a house), and it turned out he was an acquaintance of the grandson of the deceased. The grandson was in the apartment when the director came in, and was glad to see him.
The director told me what his mentor had told him: It puts a person at ease to know someone they trust is taking care of their loved one. It's awkward to be on this side of it, but it really is a good thing for them. He told me to imagine being in the situation from the other side, and I found it to be true.
In that moment, when I answered the call, when I heard my name, everything changed. These are no longer "death calls." They are broken hearts calling with stories and hopes and love and families and faces. There aren't bodies to be picked up; they are loved ones on their way to being laid to rest.
Pastorally speaking, I'm glad I could take the call. And I'm glad I'll see that person a couple times this week. I think I'm also the only pastor they know, so if they need someone, at least I know I am someone they trust.
I'll be glad to pick up the phone.
