Dearest Rachel –
Ordinarily, Mom doesn’t answer the phone when she doesn’t recognize the number on her Caller ID – frankly, we’ve all been trained by hard experience not to do that these days, which would upset Dad no end (but that’s how he was trained as a salesman; not only could every call be a customer, but because of that, they needed to be responded to within the first ring, if at all possible) – but for one reason or another, she decided to pick up the phone on this particular morning, not too long ago.
It turned out to be Harry & David. Not an actual pair of guys we know, but the bespoke fruit and floral delivery folks. “Hello, there. May I speak to Ralph Larson, please?”
And Mom barely missed a beat. “Well… he’s in heaven, but if you want to go there, you can speak to him when you get there.”
There was a pause, as the voice on the other end attempted to process this information, delivered in such a seemingly incongruously cheery tone. “Oh! …well, I’m so sorry for your loss, but I’ll mark him as ‘deceased’ from now on. Thank you for your time.”
When she came downstairs to the ‘office’ to tell me about this, I had to compliment her on her presence of mind, and graciousness in putting it to them in such a way. “I certainly wouldn’t have thought of saying that.”
“Actually, I think I remember you saying something along those lines, in those first few months after the accident, when people would call you,” she reminded me.
Did I? I can’t imagine being so gracious and cordial, honey. Even at my best, I can’t imagine being anything other than bitter and curt, especially with a spam caller of any stripe. The closest thing I can recall to being anything less would be in recommending them to hold a seance to contact you, if they were truly insistent (not that I think that would work, but it gets the point across). Granted, if they were to respond with the expected “I’m sorry for your loss” phrasing, I’d back down, because of course, there’s no point in their apologizing for something they have no control over.
I mean, if Mom says I handled these sorts of things better than I can remember, I’m not about to gainsay her. It’s just that I’ve no recollecting of offering any grace to anyone myself, and I admire the fact that she’s willing to give it where I don’t think I could have. Heck, she’s even willing to give some to me.
***
At the same time, with Dad gone, Mom has to handle certain aspects of running the household that she never did before. Not that Dad didn’t try to hand over some of these duties – I think I can recall him expressing frustration that she just wasn’t interested in handling the checkbook while he was still around to do so – but up until his last couple of months, it was just easier for him to take an hour or two every couple of days to go through everything in the office he’d set up in Jenn’s room. He had a perpetual calendar with everyone’s birthdays and anniversaries, as well as the timing for various work that needed to be done around the house.
Which leads to a phone call that Mom felt the need to make, now that Dad is gone. Winter is on its way here, and she’s worrying about her furnace in a way that you and I never did about ours – which I really should; I’m sure I’ve had people over to look at it since your departure, but I can’t even recall when I last so much as changed a filter on that thing. So over the last couple of days, she’s been going back and forth about calling the maintenance company that Dad used to employ to look at it.
Yesterday evening, she finally made the call. And wouldn’t you know it, but Dad had already set up an appointment (reasonably open-ended, as no specific date had been set; one never know when winter will arrive around here, after all) when he’d had them over this past spring to give the air conditioning unit its own annual checkup. So, while the company was somewhat busy in the moment, they assured her that he’d already made arrangements for them to come by in the near future to look at the unit.
Even from beyond, he’s looking out for her – or rather, he’d made preparations such that she wouldn’t need to worry about this and that (which she’s doing a lot more than she used to – you can tell him that – even when I keep trying to assure her that she doesn’t need to, at least not as much as she does) – so these calls are that much easier for her to deal with, at least until she gets into a habit of her own over the next couple of years.
And with that being said, I suppose I ought to look into having that done for our furnace and air conditioner in the near future, eh, honey?
