Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Hard Day...

It's been a truly difficult day.

I got in to work...so far behind it's not even funny.  But I worked diligently despite the programs I was using freezing up and having to restart the entire system 10 times.... honestly, I'm not even joking. 10 times. Nightmare.

I finally was on the verge of tears and decided to go grab a quick coffee and check my blogs.

And there it was. The End.  Michael's farewell to his blog. Tears welled up and I quickly read it as I walked back to my desk with my coffee in hand. (Michael, I'm not writing this to make you feel bad...honestly, I know I will still hear from you and that's fine altho I will miss your blog terribly as I have already said.)  So I get myself under control....do another hours work and as I'm on another call, a voicemail pops up on my desk phone.
As soon as I finish the call I'm on I tap in my code for my voicemail and listen to it.

It was a sweet little Irish lady informing me of her name, her husband's name- who the appointment was for,  and the fact that we wouldn't need to do an inspection of equipment tomorrow as her husband had passed away two weeks ago- whilst she was in the hospital herself. Her voice broke as she said that and she began crying as she said the equipment had been collected just yesterday. She then thanked me and hung up. It broke my heart the raw emotion in her voice and I completely lost it. My throat closed up and my eyes filled with tears and rolled down my cheeks and I tried unsuccessfully to get my emotions under control. I was sobbing. That one bit of emotion  brought all the pain and grief of Daddy and Clay's passing back like it was yesterday. 
My office mate, Tom asked if I was okay and I shook my head, trying desperately to get back in control of my emotions.
The lady had left out one vital bit of information and I had to call her back to get it so we could cancel the appointment and hopefully not cause her more anguish than she was already going thru.

I quickly walked to the ladies room and sobbed for a full twenty minutes before I could get myself back in control. I splashed water on my face-  wiped off the mascara that was ruined, and walked back to my desk. I sat down and picked up the phone....and immediately felt my throat start closing up again. I put the phone down. I sat there for another 5 minutes occupying myself with a bit of my other work. I picked up the phone again. I hesitated and put it down again. I worked another few minutes on my spreadsheet.

I finally felt able to make the call, so I tapped in the number and waited. She answered and I introduced myself and  apologized as I explained I just needed to get one vital bit of information from her so I could  cancel the appointment. I needed her address and postcode.  My voice broke. I was having the worst time ever trying to hold myself together to finish that conversation. She apologized for not remembering to leave that info and I told her I completely understood and was so sorry for her loss. She gave me the information I needed and apologized again and thanked me for the concern. And then she asked me if I was alright. I told her yes ma'am. I had suffered a loss too and I understood what she was going thru. I then told her we would get the appointment canceled and she shouldn't be receiving anymore appointment letters from us in future. And we hung up. And I started crying again.

Tomorrow has got to be better, ......right?

1 comment:

Michael Dodd said...

As I mentioned on the blog recently, each new grief seems to bring up many old ones. When my mother's mother died -- we were very close -- I held up well at the death (I was the only family member allowed to stay, being a priest and all) and at the funeral. Over ten years later, when mentioning it in a sermon, I suddenly choked up and couldn't go on. It could have happened that morning instead of a decade before.

Sounds to me like you handled the situation with the grieving widow very humanely. Your pain and your willingness to share it, made a connection with her that I imagine was, in some way, healing. I hope so, for both of you.