Fix It!

Shackelford Funeral Directors • July 19, 2013

We were indulging in our traditional Sunday evening meal at La Potosina, joined as was customary by our son and his family.  Seated next to me was the infamous Wilson of gray road fame (kindly see my previous post) and across from me, his younger brother, the notoriously cute Anderson.  When their usual cheese quesadillas arrived, Wilson decided he was going to cut his into pieces all by himself.  Since the table knives at the restaurant are on the slightly dull side, it was deemed permissible for him to try . . . and try he did.  With a slight assist from his Mona (yes, I said Mona, as in Mona Lisa—not everybody can use that), he managed to slice/pull off two rather oddly shaped pieces before deciding this cutting business was harder than it looked and relinquishing the knife to his granny.

Now, we’ve known for some time that whatever Wilson does Anderson will insist upon trying, but for some reason that fact did not spring to mind when Wilson expressed his desire to exercise his independence.  And while Wilson managed to keep his quesadilla on the plate, Anderson’s slid in all directions, threatening to leap from the table and make a break for the floor at any moment.  Fine motor skills are not yet at his command and, after several minutes of breath holding and quesadilla adjusting, his daddy took the plate and sliced the quesadilla into five neatly sized pieces . . . much to Anderson’s dismay.  The entire time Joseph was cutting, Anderson was crying, “I do it!!  I do it!!” while standing ready with his knife in one hand and his fork in the other, but to no avail.  When at last the dastardly deed was done and the quesadilla placed in front of Anderson—who now had tears streaming down his cheeks and snot pouring from his nose—he laid down his knife and fork, picked up two pieces of the quesadilla and, holding them up to his daddy with the most pitiful look, said, “Fix it.”

It was such a simple request.  Fix it.  Put my quesadilla back together so I can cut it up.  Even though it will probably end up in the floor and you’ll have to order another one, fix it so I can, so I won’t be upset and unhappy anymore.  Fix it . . .

How many times have we wanted to look at someone—anyone—and beg them to “fix it”?  To make it all better.  To take away whatever pain we have, to wipe away the tears and remove the crushing ache that comes when our neatly ordered lives spiral out of control.  If we’re honest, there are more times than we care to count, and the things that are broken are always beyond fixing.  Like a quesadilla now sliced into manageable pieces, that part of our lives cannot be made whole again.

It took a while, but we finally managed to distract Anderson enough that the quesadilla became supper instead of a crisis.  Unfortunately, the weightier matters of life are never so simple and there are no easy “fixes” because those solutions are different for everyone—in other words, I don’t have any answers to offer.  But I do know this:  as long as we sit and stare at the problem—the broken pieces of our lives—and focus on what we have lost and of what we have been deprived, we will never be able to enjoy life.  That only happens when we begin to look outward, beyond ourselves and the trials and tribulations that afflict us.

The post Fix It! appeared first on Shackelford Funeral Directors | Blog.

By Lisa Thomas June 18, 2025
It was dark outside when the phone rang; a glance at the clock revealed the day was still in its infancy, which explained why the funeral director’s brain did not want to engage. Years of experience prevailed however, and he answered the call, finding on the other end of the line a hospice nurse requesting their services for a death that had occurred in a home.
By Lisa Thomas June 11, 2025
In honor of the upcoming day of celebration for fathers everywhere (or at least in the United States and a few other countries), how ‘bout we look at some fun facts and/or interesting tidbits regarding the holiday and dads in general?
By Lisa Thomas June 5, 2025
It was 1972 . . . a Sunday in April when Don Price and his brother Laverne decided to go swimming at Pickwick Lake. Don was finishing up his Junior year at Central High School in Savannah and had been voted Most Athletic and Best All Around by the students there.
By Lisa Thomas May 29, 2025
The years and the connections they shared compelled her to attend the service acknowledging the end of his time on this earthly plane. There was just one problem. She had a three-year old . . . and funeral masses are usually not well tolerated by such creatures . . .
By Lisa Thomas May 21, 2025
For the past several years I’ve taken the week before Memorial Day to focus on a few members of our military who lived in our area—and who gave their lives in service to our country.
By Lisa Thomas May 15, 2025
My maternal grandmother was a fiercely independent soul, having been born and raised on a farm in the New Hope community of rural Hardin County, Tennessee. She made up for her lack of travel experiences by marrying my grandfather who worked for TVA during their years of dam construction across the southern United States.
By Lisa Thomas May 8, 2025
It was late one Saturday afternoon when the guests gathered beneath the boughs of an ancient oak. They had come to celebrate the beginning of a life together for two young people they all knew and loved, but before the ceremony began with the official seating of the grandparents and parents of the bride and groom, a woman walked down the aisle, carrying sunflowers which she gently laid in a chair at the front.
By Lisa Thomas May 1, 2025
The crowd was tremendous, numbering in the tens of thousands, and all willing to wait the almost eight hours it could take to reach their destination. And the vast majority of them came armed with cell phones and the occasional selfie stick.
By Lisa Thomas April 23, 2025
As a child I always had a love-hate relationship with Easter. I loved the egg hunts we had at school, walking to a nearby classmate’s home and searching for the elusive eggs scattered about the yard. I wasn’t crazy about being required to dress up for the church service—mainly because I wasn’t crazy about being required to dress up for much of anything.
By Lisa Thomas April 17, 2025
When a family comes to the funeral home to make arrangements for someone they have loved and lost, they come bearing much more than clothes and a picture for the memorial folder. They just don’t always realize it.
More Posts