Video rolling. Website is live. Delicious Big Turkey Foot Coffee available on the store for consumption. Remember, quit expecting so much from me and others. But, really, you can be confident you can find some swag and beans over at YDT dot com. In that light, you have a name now. You listeners are now, and forevermore going to be referenced as “Tryers”. Always striving. Grinding. Trying. Doing what you can. So, cheers to you, tryers. And speaking of tryers, what are you trying? What’s your ‘why’ for trying? Let me know. Email me. Find me on Insta, atnathanmorris, atyoulldietryingpodcast. Find me. If not, consider this, S2, Ep 124 of YDT, a show which pulls back the curtain, takes down the walls brick by brick, and exposes the true heart of those caring for those you love most, consider me finding you. Meeting you where you’re at.
Of course, this show is enjoyed, as are many others, by drinking a cup of BTF coffee. It’s not just lip service, I mean, I have video now to prove it. Speaking of video, if you’re seeking content, simply document. Don’t overthink it in creating. Meaning, don’t spend too much time getting colors perfect or angles. Documentaries are so popular, vlogs are so popular, TikTok is so popular, because they’re just… real. So, be that. That’s what I’ll be. We will find a place for this video. YouTube. Chopped up bits on YDT’s Insta. In the spirit of abbreviations, welcome EFF to the party. We have YDT, BTFC and EFF, or, Express Funeral Funding. Proud partners of You’ll Die Trying and Morris Family, providing financial assurance to the families who call upon our homes. With the unfortunate days ending, where handshakes and your word mattered, funeral providers’ need to secure funds for services now exist. EFF supports families, with their Family Pay option. As many people utilize the proceeds of insurance to cover funeral costs, EFF offers families to assign the proceeds to the funeral home, where the funds are distributed to the funeral homes immediately, aleviating the “Balance” from the family’s minds, not to mention, the ability for a family to receive their proceeds as well. Really. It’s called Family Pay. EFF does the work on the back end with insurance companies, so families and funeral homes may celebrate, grieve and gather on the other end. Visit expressfuneralfundingdotcom to learn the financial peace-of-mind they offer to those we love and serve.
The day I buried the three little children killed in the car wreck, walking in the door so heavy hearted, did they see a poor example of a father? Or did they see what I hoped they did? A man who carried a burden for a family too saddened to carry the muck and mire alone. I hope that one. I hope my sons know my first and last thoughts are them. The entire reason I continue such acts of hard work and service. All to be an example to them of how to treat men, women, speak to people. How to be kind to all. To take a moment to spark a conversation with gas station clerk. That no one is greater than you. How words matter, but actions do more.
Funerals have allowed for a shell of me to be. My mind is oftentimes in the care center with Chris, while I’m trying to enjoy Thanksgiving, because he is working tirelessly, too, sacrificing time away from Eli and Mandy. Not to mention the family who have an empty seat, and can’t even attempt to force a small morsel of mashed potatoes down.
Zeros and Ones have consumed me. Always available. Always. To my children, it means partial attention at times. “Yeah, I’m watching you play Fortnite.” “Of course I saw you get that out.” When in all reality, a manager has a question about a policy. A 23 year old’s mother wanted a specific request carried out, and I needed to personally place my finger on it. I’m left day in and day out, wondering if I owe apologies to them. Do I keep a running tally, perpetually crucifying myself because I’m choosing to handle this matter, take that funeral, drive to this location, over more time with the kids. Just recently, I drove a 28 foot box truck to Mayfield to personally unload this fully packed machine with my brother-in-law as the only additional help. Just to race home another 2 hours to not miss the Christmas Program. I didn’t, but the weight and concern over its possibility is what has aged me. That feeling of perpetually and/or possibly letting someone down, all because I have refused to let a family who calls upon feel that. A perfect Catch 22.
Gosh, I love my family. Truly, I do. I can’t turn off my phone. At bedsides and accident scenes, families grieve. Confidently, they rely on and call on us. And in a selfless and quiet way, the funeral directors’ family does, too. Grieve. Because they know we will, in a moments notice, lace up our dress shoes, no matter the location we’re heading to, to tend to the dead, and those left to make their existence be forever remembered with our help.
Families, Families of directors, funeral directors, I hear you. I feel you. I feel with you. I love you and what it is you do each night and day. Megan. Boys. I’m sorry. May my being pulled in two directions and the feelings this creates, be my penance.