Delete Mom?

That may seem like an odd title question given the fact that my mother passed away on Tuesday. When Mom went onto hospice, I entered her telephone number into my cell so that it was the first contact number that came up on the scroll. Today, as I opened my cell to make a call, her number was right there, on the top, staring at me. MOM.
Hmmmm . . . .
Since there was no reason to keep her phone number anymore, I pressed the sequence of buttons to remove her number. A screen popped up that said, "Delete Mom?" I laughed because I didn't think she could be deleted twice in one week, so I closed the screen with a smile.
That moment of black comedy was brought to you by Verizon.

On the other hand, there have been moments of frustration and despair. Admittedly, my regular spiritual practice has taken the negative brunt end of the past several months. I still do my prayer work and have my private conversations with God. But my sit-downs in the silence with Spirit had decreased. Today, I looked on the bright side that I can now resume my regular spiritual practice; I can return to a full nights sleep instead of keeping out a small antennae out that "that call" could come at anytime. No more jumping or wincing in anticipation every time the phone rings.


(Small episode of whining coming up:)
As I continue to tend to the business aspect of Mom's transition--phone calls and bills oh my--and going through the bags and boxes of her things that came home with us on Monday, I do it pretty well. Although, I was holding back the fisticuffs in talking to an Earthlink customer service rep that arguably was working from the cubicles of India. There have been many jokes, articles and comedy sketches about the trend of larger companies using workers based in India for their customer service calls. That in and of itself is not the issue. It is the lack of training, skills or finesse that makes it so difficult. It would almost be easier to talk to one of the computerized voices with the proscribed choices offered at the touch of a phone button.

Mom's Mailstation service contract ended in April and I chose to not renew it. Then I begin getting bills for monthly service. It took awhile to finally get a hold of a human person somewhere on the planet (because even though this is an Internet based company, navigating their site to resolve my issue was almost impossible) and canceled the service explaining my mother was in a nursing home and no longer using the e-mail machine. But alas, no one explained to me that by not renewing the contract or canceling the service that I would be kicked into a monthly payment plan when I didn't renew. Earthlink continues to bill me for $12.95 for a month of service that was non-existent. The representative I spoke with said this was their policy--to which I replied, I was not made aware of that nor did I authorize continuation of the service. I offered to speak to a supervisor to explain my story again to and perhaps mention the very extenuating circumstances but he replied that the account would need to go to collections.- I said that was fine and dandy with me because it would cost the company more money to try and collect the $12.95. He said he would notate my account that the customer called.Rightey -O. And please notate the account that I tried to work this out earlier; I chose to not give new credit card information because I wanted to end the service and for crying out loud (which I did later) the customer is now deceased!! But the rep couldn't have heard me over the sound of the tree trimmers anyway.


(Back to the joy:) Last night when I got home, there was a darling stuffed dog and a card on my porch. I immediately named it Dixie Doodle Dog because a friend and I had just had a conversation about that name. As I was reading the card from my sweet neighbor, Amelia, a song came on the radio, "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?" sung by Rod Stewart. Rod Stewart is one of my least favorite singers, but somehow this time, the song had a new sweetness. I walked over to the dining room counter where we have most of our framed photos as I had a desire to look at the photos of my Mom. So Dixie Doodle Dog and I danced to Rod's dedication song, while I reminisced about my Mom. It was wonderful--not difficult nor sad.

This is sure an educational process. Of course, there will be more linear tasks to complete that are required after someone dies. There will no doubt be several more bouts of whining, sadness and weeping, too. But knowing me, I will also have far more episodes of laughter and joy; and well, dancing.