When you work in a service profession, you are called to do much more than the duties outlined in your job description.
The year was 1988. The place: a little town named Houma, Louisiana. The event, though transformative, would not make the national news or likely even be known by more than a dozen people over the decades that followed. However, for the four adults and three children in that little shotgun house; their lives would be forever changed.
The time was around four in the afternoon, the little house smelled of coffee and lilies. The life‑insurance agent and his manager had come for a routine review, but the living room felt small under the weight of unspoken things. These two strangers were introduced to an older matriarch who sat in a wheelchair, one hand folded around a worn rosary; her daughter, pale and taut, hovered near the kitchen doorway. The woman’s three children were each sitting around the kitchen table, doing their homework. The client, was the frail woman in her fifties.
After introductions and pleasantries were exchanged the manager made the decision to conduct the review in the living room, since the kitchen table was occupied. Placing a chair beside the wheelchair, the agent, in a well-practiced manner, executed a flawless review of the contracts the client had on her life. The daughter, sitting toward the far side of the couch, away from the business being discussed, looked to be ill at ease about the material being covered. When the agent began to confirm with the client, the people named as beneficiary and the amounts she wanted each to receive, the daughter quickly jumped from her seat and literally ran into the kitchen.
The manager noticed immediately that the client was emotionally affected by the daughter’s rushed exit from the room and the new agent seemed uncomfortable with the situation. The manager rose from his seat opposite the couch, kneeling at the edge of the wheelchair. Reaching for her hand, noticing the trembling wedding ring loose on her finger, he looked into her tear-filled eyes. “Tell me how you’re holding up,”
“My daughter is not taking my sickness well. She refuses to speak to me about anything having to do with my pending death. I want to make it easier for her and the kids, but she does not see it like I do. We all die a little bit each day; the only difference between she and I is that I have the blessing of knowing mine will happen soon.” With a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes she whispered, “Preparation is not a bad thing when you are trying to get into heaven.”
With a tearful smile of his own he replied softly, “You are ready, aren’t you?”
“I am, I can’t wait to be with my husband again.”
Patting her hand, he slowly stands as he asks his partner to continue. He walks into the kitchen; hoping to find the daughter and he does.
In the kitchen the daughter’s shoulders shook as the manager closed the distance and spoke plainly. “I can’t stop this from happening. Neither can you. But you all can use the time you have left.”
Looking at her feet she begins to weep, “It is not fair, she is so young, and I don’t want her to go.”
“You are right, she is still young. From my experiences, I can tell that she wants to talk to you about what she is going through mentally, what she is thinking spiritually, and how she wants to be remembered. Please don’t deny any of you that opportunity.”
While they were talking, he noticed that the children had exited the kitchen to go in the living room. Taking the hand of the daughter, he led her to the entry way where they could see her three children gathered around their grandmother as she talked to them about heaven. They were all smiling, even the young agent.
“Talk to her. Ask what she wants remembered. Listen to carefully to what she wants to tell you. You’ll be glad you did.”
The daughter looked, and the sight of her children gathered around the sofa broke something open. She rushed back to them without another word.
“It will be okay…it won’t be easy, but it will be okay.”
I would like to think that those two insurance representatives left that family a little better off that day. It was a little over three weeks later when the group was brought together again, this time in a church to say a final farewell and to begin the process of honoring a promise made many years before. The daughter, upon greeting the two men, gave them both a big hug and she whispered in the ear of the manager, “Thank you for giving us the best three weeks I could have asked for. I believe that you were heaven sent.”
Over the last forty plus years, I have come to the conclusion that much of our actions are heaven sent. If you happen to be in the life insurance business, you must learn to deal with all manner of death. It is much easier on everyone, when the loved ones can envision an angelic departure. Thankfully, most will fall in that category but when death occur in a violent manner, under questionable causes, or at the hands of another; we must be God’s emissary bringing peace and some financial comfort.
If this is my last post, I want all to know there was only one purpose for all that I have written; to have made a positive difference in the lives of others.
Anthony “Tony” Boquet, Certified Professional Business Coach, A Solutionary, Author of “The Bloodline of Wisdom, The Awakening of a Modern Solutionary” and The Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, A Devotional Timeline”