The Many Pieces of Chuck Jackson

During my adult life, I actually had three careers. First was the four years I served in the military. When I left the military, I went to mortuary school, served a two-year apprenticeship, and then became a licensed funeral director and embalmer. I worked for funeral homes for twelve years. I started out in East Texas and most of my years were in San Antonio working for a prestigious funeral home.

They were rewarding years and I am proud of my career in the business. I left when I had a death in my immediate family and I could no longer work emotionally detached. I have many memories from the years I worked in the funeral business. Some are emotionally challenging, some involved historical individuals, and some in hindsight are comical. When you worked in view of the public, your demeanor was always dignified. When handling the remains of family members we served, we gave the same dignified and respectful care. However, I have to admit, behind the scenes were a lighter atmosphere between staff members. I have many stories of my experiences that will either pull at your heartstrings or enlighten you to the lighter side of funerals. I am going to share one of my experiences, which became notorious. I’ll let you decide if you think it was humorous.

Out of respect to the family that still owns and operates the funeral home, I am changing the name and the name of the owner. However, if your curiosity is such, you can find the story on the Internet by querying the name of the deceased that I have not changed. It will verify most of the details of my story.

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