Monday, December 15, 2014

Customer Service... or taking my anger on on a stranger.

You know, when your daughter dies, other "shit happens" shit keeps happening.

It feels unfair.  It feels like if we have to deal with the death of our daughter, perhaps our sink could not start leaking?  Sorry, sink, I'm busy grieving.  I don't have time for you.

I've been meaning to make this customer service call but never up for it.
I've mentioned how debilitating grief is, but it's not just leaving the house.
It's doing all the normal things.
I'm usually such a motivated person, I usually plow through to-do lists.  I usually can't rest until everything is done.
But for the past 5 weeks and 5 days, I have been paralyzed. 

So this morning, I decide to bite the bullet and call this customer service.
Let's just say the conversation did not go well.
This man decides to give me a long list of things I need to do in order for him to send me replacement dishes.
And did I mention how hard it is to do anything these days?
I proceed to tell him each of these things is infinitely more difficult... because my daughter just died.

I'm not sure what I wanted him to say.  I just was trying to explain why locating a receipt from last April seems so freaking difficult right now.  Why calling my credit card company is not a good option.  (I would probably have to tell that poor customer service representative that my daughter just died too).

He tells me that he understands grief because his grandmother just died.
I yelled at him.
Before I get into that, let me say that I apologized before I hung up.  And then I sat down on the floor and sobbed.

But: YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BURY YOUR GRANDPARENTS.  I know, I've done it.
That doesn't mean it's easy.  Or unemotional.  Or that you don't grieve.  But it's the way that the world is supposed to work.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BURY YOUR CHILDREN.  They are supposed to outlive you.  They should bury you.

Also, we were supposed to come home from the hospital today.


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