This week has been a huge transition in my life. I retired from my 23 year career to focus on my relationship and the business I own. I can work from anywhere which is giving me much more time to enjoy time. Of course, big transitions have change and responsibility. I’m organizing my own healthcare, retirement and tying up loose ends. I’m fully enjoying the time freedom but it will take a bit before I settle into a normal schedule.
Among the list of “to dos” was car insurance. They still hadn’t updated my address when I moved. I wanted to talk to a human and assure I had all the discounts available to me. The representative was cheerful. As we looked over my account, one detail caught my eye. They never Removed Clayton from the policy. I had asked them after he passed and was told:
“The system can take 24 hours to update.”
Well, I thought nothing else of it and forgot.
New address updated but no policy or mileage change working from home. The woman asked me if there was anything else?
“Yes. I see that Clayton is still listed on the account. He passed away over 4 years ago. I had called to have his name taken off.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. What day did he pass?” she responded.
“April 16th, 2018.” I said clearly. That date doesn’t cause me to choke anymore when I say it.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry to hear he passed but you’ll be happy to know that taking him off the policy will save you one dollar!” she happily declared.
I was shocked that someone would follow up a sympathetic apology for loss with a happy declaration that I saved $1. I don’t know if she was on autopilot and didn’t realize, if she was heartless or if death makes her say strange things. Two years ago, that comment would have resulted in choice words back from me but my widowed growth has gifted me more patience and offering the benefit of the doubt. I’ll just assume she was very uncomfortable with the discussion and her way of “looking on the bright side” was meant well.
I didn’t let the comment dwell with me this week but today I spent time cleaning and organizing the office at home. Tucked in a drawer I hadn’t looked through in years were the sympathy cards sent to me after Clayton passed. In front of me was laid out way more value in words then just one dollar’s worth. Opening the cards didn’t upset me. They brought me the memories of all the support and love poured over me exactly when I needed it. Here I am reminded again by Grief’s gratitude that I am surrounded by an incredible amount of widowed words worth more than just one dollar…