(no subject)
Mar. 23rd, 2006 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfate[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.
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-24 03:18 am (UTC)I didn't get "was it a blessing," though I seemed to spend way too much time saying deeply trite things like, "I'm just glad she didn't suffer," and "There's nothing she would have hated more than feeling useless, so I'm glad she never deteriorated to that point."
The question that really drove me batshit was the soft, studiously heartfelt, "How are you?" Because it came from fucking everyone, and honestly, what the FUCK do you say to that? "I'm FABULOUS, how are you?!" I know there's nothing to say, and I know people have to say it anyway, and god knows I've been the one spouting well-meant but incredibly inane things many, many times. But that doesn't make it suck any less when it happens to you.
I like the Scanners idea, though. I say go with that!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-24 03:05 pm (UTC)I can handle "How are you?" now, though at the beginning I tended too much toward the inappropriate frankness: "Okay. I got some really good pills, so I don't wake up screaming so much," or a cryptic "This site has gone five days without a fatality," to a perfectly blameless Walgreen's clerk who only wanted me to take my lightbulbs and leave.
I fear the inevitable "How's your Mom?" "Dead." And I know it'll happen.