![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
[Warnings for deathiness, gore, and a minor spoiler for Signs.]
God knows it's hard to know what to say when people die. For example, it's a running joke in our office that whoever gets to sign a sympathy card first invariably writes, "Our thoughts and prayers are with you," and the poor bastards who are left to follow up have to come up with something else.
But I had a weird one yesterday. I went to the bank to clear up some stuff with one of Mom's accounts. The Lady With A Desk actually remembered her, which was nice, and did the usual condolences, and then said, "Was it a blessing, at least?" People keep asking me that. It's a well-meaning phrase, I guess, sort of like when you put your dog to sleep and at least it's not in pain anymore.
On the other hand, with a human being, it's also coded to mean, "Was it after years of ineffective chemo, with the barfing and the balding and the giant tumours?" or "Was she just dripping with agonizing sores that no painkiller could numb?" or "Did she finally kick it after a decade of being totally goon-a-rama geezer scooters until you thought you'd go nuts with the responsibility?" or "Was she, like, totally cut in half but still alive and pinned to a tree like Mel Gibson's wife in Signs?" I mean, what do you say to that?
"Uh, I suppose so," I said brilliantly. "Y'know. Considering it was death and all."
"That's good," she said.
This wasn't the first time. I swear, next person who asks that is getting, "It was fucking amazing. Her head spontaneously blew apart like Louis del Grande in Scanners. The whole neighborhood heard it. Our homeowner and medical insurance guys are in court right now, fighting over who has to pay to replace the drapes*."
Okay, I won't.
*This image courtesy of the time Mom dropped a jar of Prego sauce in the living room that went off like a grenade and made the place look like a Tobe Hooper film.
God knows it's hard to know what to say when people die. For example, it's a running joke in our office that whoever gets to sign a sympathy card first invariably writes, "Our thoughts and prayers are with you," and the poor bastards who are left to follow up have to come up with something else.
But I had a weird one yesterday. I went to the bank to clear up some stuff with one of Mom's accounts. The Lady With A Desk actually remembered her, which was nice, and did the usual condolences, and then said, "Was it a blessing, at least?" People keep asking me that. It's a well-meaning phrase, I guess, sort of like when you put your dog to sleep and at least it's not in pain anymore.
On the other hand, with a human being, it's also coded to mean, "Was it after years of ineffective chemo, with the barfing and the balding and the giant tumours?" or "Was she just dripping with agonizing sores that no painkiller could numb?" or "Did she finally kick it after a decade of being totally goon-a-rama geezer scooters until you thought you'd go nuts with the responsibility?" or "Was she, like, totally cut in half but still alive and pinned to a tree like Mel Gibson's wife in Signs?" I mean, what do you say to that?
"Uh, I suppose so," I said brilliantly. "Y'know. Considering it was death and all."
"That's good," she said.
This wasn't the first time. I swear, next person who asks that is getting, "It was fucking amazing. Her head spontaneously blew apart like Louis del Grande in Scanners. The whole neighborhood heard it. Our homeowner and medical insurance guys are in court right now, fighting over who has to pay to replace the drapes*."
Okay, I won't.
*This image courtesy of the time Mom dropped a jar of Prego sauce in the living room that went off like a grenade and made the place look like a Tobe Hooper film.
no subject
The worst talk I remember from back when my mom died was when I had to carry the unopened medicament supply back to the apothecary. The overwhelmed PTA was all extra at-pains and sincere-like and 'Can't stop! Must try out next vaguely suitable phrase!'-like to make up for the awkwardness of the transaction. Gah. The poor girl.
no subject
You know what's weird? I'm trying to figure out how to tell Will the Lawn Guy. He really liked her.
no subject
Hu, that's a different kind of complicated again. Good luck with that. My brain is stuck on manly invitations for a drink on her memory here. Probably my brain just wants a drink.