Humor Is The Life Preserver In A Well Of GriefI haven't been here on EP for quite a while. Except for contacts from some incredibly faithful friends (who tried to stay in touch despite my reclusive behavior), I haven't been anywhere for quite a while.
I lost my husband to cancer last September after a nearly 15-month odyssey through the medical system. That's not what I'm finding humor in, although even then, there were some priceless moments. Black humor, they call it.
Just in the past few weeks, though, I've been starting to feel like, well, me again. I noticed it most during a recent drive home from my mother's house on a Kodak-perfect October day. I found a 60s station on the radio, and after a while I turned up the volume. Before long I was singing along to the oldies. Except MacArthur Park because who can sing along to that if they're sober?
My point here is that although I sank deep for a long time, the soul's natural buoyancy (in the absence of clinical conditions) forces it back to the surface of life. Back to the sunshine and the rain, birdsong and car horns.
My husband had a BP credit card, which I thought I had paid off and cancelled. I hadn't heard from them since April, so I thought they agreed. Today I received a bill for a $2.00 balance. The next step sounds easier than it was. I went online, registered for online access, and paid the $2.00. Tim would have wanted me to do that. I then called the relevant credit card company, explained the situation,and requested that the card be cancelled.
The first customer service representative, a sweet and friendly woman, nonetheless asked, "Has anyone sent you to our Deceased Department?"
No, and I am not ready to be sent there, either! The question sounded just a tad callous to me, but I merely answered, "No."
She transferred me. While waiting for the Deceased Department, a little on edge, I had to listen to music. The first phrase of lyrics I heard while waiting for a person was, "I'm sick of your crying." Is this company intentionally cruel, or are things like this just cosmic accidents?
The department in question answered in terms more palatable: "Estate Department."
A very nice guy named Ken handled the situation and cancelled the card.
The fact that I found this all amusing is heartening.