This country needs a special service called HelplessWidowHelp.com because dammitman,I am doing the best I can but what happens upon calling the COBRA service help line, this man with a voice like an accountant from Indiana comes on and drones “representatives are unable to access your account at this time please hang up and
go do your laundry or change the oil in you car to burp a baby or whatever you women with too much time on your hands do these days and try again at a later time.” OK fine then there is a 60 day grace period and hopefully they won’t refuse #4’s emergency room visit from yesterday.
Then there’s the banking thing where the HR people at Himself’s place of employment promised the deposit would be made Monday and it’s Tuesday and it hasn’t shown up yet and I keep thinking it’s Wednesday so I’m flipping out because that’s the funds I need to live on for the next several months and ONOWHATAMIGONNADOOO” and looking at the online thing I see an account that is #4’s for college but of course I forgot about that because I have Widow Brain so I assume the bank deposited the funds in the wrong account which is the bank’s fault so I call and am all prepared to give someone the Holy What-For but the banker on the line was all “ummmm….this account was opened in 2012…and….ummm” and then I remembered it and said “Oh crap. I’m sorry, my husband died” and totally pulled out my Widow Creds on him and he obviously never dealt with that because I heard it in his voice. Anyway, I apologized and said it was NOT the bank’s fault, etc…and hung up.
And I cant even remember if one uses and apostrophe like that, is it banks or bank’s…don’t know, don’t care.
We need a Get Out Of Trouble Free card, or a place to call that will mediate our brain dead foolishness or for a small fee we can just hand them the piles of papers and forms and stuff and say “please fix this I am going to the Bahamas.” and it will be all in order when I’ve had my fill of Ramone bringing me chips and booze, and return.
See, I knew today would be problematic, even with the breakfast with a friend and the chat with another friend and the finding of shorts for #4 that were cheap. I woke up with the weight of grief on my head.
It was kind of…nice, really, a relief. I had been wondering if I was too cheerful, not taking this tremendous loss hard enough. Was I too cheerful? Enjoying planning the future a bit too much? Not sad enough? Not missing Himself appropriately? This morning answered that, waking up with a face wet with tears and allowing myself to produce some more. This morning was difficult but it was kind of like…going to the gym and doing 100 burpees in a row. Spiritual burpees. Not real ones even though that sort of physical grief is very exhausting. I was glad for it, even though it was painful, because it told me I wasn’t doing it wrong.
But, if there were a resource, a place to go to allow someone else to deal with ALL THE STUFF that was, you know, bonded and trustworthy. That would be nice.
And yes, the deacons are helping. But, there is still a degree of stuff I must do, decisions to be made that I don’t want to make, phone calls, things to sign, all that. I just want to hand over a stack of death certificates and say “have at it. you do it.” I am capable, and in a strange sort of way am actually enjoying it, unless Ed The Accountant answers the phone and says “No.” Which is what is happening with the one thing that needs to be dealt with NOW.