Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Basic Humanity

The check for my mother's life insurance policy came in yesterday --- I'm back from the bank, having divvied it up among accounts.

That rectangle of paper means that somewhere, in some office, the books are closed on Delores E. Spence.  And that made me profoundly sad.  I will never, ever forget going to our insurance agent when Dale died, to move things around, be sure all his paperwork was taken care of.  The agent had all of Dale's information up on his computer screen, and when he realized we were done with it, he hit the "delete" key.  Right in front of me.  My husband was completely, irrevocably gone.  I doubt the agent even realized what he had done, but it has haunted me as insensitive and thoughtless ever since.

Fortunately, I was not in the office when my mother's records were erased.


3 comments:

  1. I'm sorry about this. Not sure what else to say.

    ReplyDelete
  2. The accounting side of me is appalled at deleting ANYTHING and the decent-human-being part of me is just profoundly sad.

    ReplyDelete

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