http://picosong.com/j8/
Music: Nickel Creek "Smoothie Song" This Side (2002)
Tuesday October 20th, 2009
I’m not sure what it is about fall that makes me so happy. The cooler weather: yes. The changing leaves: yes. The unmistakable autumn aroma: definitely. But really, what do the temperature change, falling leaves and scent have in common? Death.
I think there’s something romantic to be said about death. While working at the answering service, I received a call for a funeral home. A woman wanted to alert them that her husband was dying. We call those “death calls” (though it’s mostly the medical calls that make us want to die).
The woman was fine in the beginning, and as soon as she told me the purpose of the call I knew I would need to speak gently to her. We didn’t even get past her phone number when she started crying. All I could think was that it was just like in the movies. Man and woman fall in love, have kids, live happily for decades…then one of them dies, leaving the other alone and broken. It was truly heartbreaking because her tears were real. When our phone conversation was done, she wouldn’t dry her cheeks, accept her check for acting her heart out and move on with life. She would dry her tears the best she could, and return to her family alone.
No more at family dinners would she sit at the first chair next to the head of the table where her husband sat. When it snowed, she’d have no strong arm to hold on to while walking down the sidewalk to church. At Christmas, all the gifts for the children would be from her, though her husband never did any of the shopping she’d still mark the tags as “From: Mom & Dad.”
All of this ran through my mind during the 2 minute phone call. When we were off the phone, I just sat at my cubicle and stared at the screen. I try not to let calls like that get to me, but this one caught me off guard. I wanted to jot down the woman’s number and call her back when my shift was over to make sure she was doing alright. I wanted to send her flowers, set up a time to visit her on a weekly basis to ensure she would never have a chance to feel the soul-crushing loneliness she was sure to be facing. I needed to know she was going to be ok.
I finally finished the message and almost immediately received a call for a lawyer’s office. A woman was in the middle of a lawsuit with her former employee who had apparently “taken advantage of her.” Thankfully, she spared the details of how/where he took advantage. It quickly became evident that she loved to talk, and her raspy 2-pack-a-day voice also made it clear that she was a walking paradox...or a masochist. Toward the end of her “woes me” tale, I read her number back to confirm it. That’s when she, the innocent victim apologetically replied, “I think that’s right…I’m really high right now.” Right then, I knew what that poor widow needed.
Alas, this is
