I know it’s been a while since I have written a diary, but it’s been a rough couple of months here. It is hard to believe Jeffrey has been gone nearly two months. It is difficult to believe what one is put through, at their most vulnerable point, when a loved one passes away. If this diary can help even one person from having to go through what I have gone through it will be worth the pain of putting this in writing.
By the time we found out that Jeffrey didn’t have long to live (mid October 2014), we started making as many plans as we could. We pre-planned both of our funerals, had it paid for in advance. We went through all of his paperwork so I would know whom to contact, etc, to collect his annuity payments. I thought we were “prepared.” Boy was I wrong.
It started the day that Jeffrey passed away, January 5, 2015. Jeffrey was under Hospice care, so when he passed away we did not have to have the police or coroner come out. It took the funeral home four and a half hours to come pick him up. As they were leaving, one of the men told me that I had to go see the Funeral Director – that day to take care of all the paperwork. I told him that we already had paid for everything, as it was pre-planned. I was told that it didn’t matter; all the paperwork has to be redone. WTH?? Keep in mind that the last five days of Jeffrey’s life, I never left his side except to go to the bathroom. I hadn’t slept, I was exhausted, and I sure as the dickens didn’t feel like having to go talk to some Funeral Director. I told the man to tell the Funeral Director that if he had to see me today, he could come to me – I wasn’t going to go to him. Fortunately, the Hospice Social Worker was here and made that happen.
The Funeral Director showed up at approximately 1:00. Now, I realize that the Funeral industry is a business; but it had been 20 years or better since I had actually been actively involved with one. That was during a time when they actually cared. My father was here with me because he wanted to make sure that things went smoothly. Both of my parents know that I can be hot tempered when pushed too far, but neither of them have seen it personally. I can normally keep it in check. I retired from both the Army and Civil Service. I don’t hit the 5’ mark on a tape measure; have fiery red hair and am 99.9% Irish.
It was obvious from the moment the Funeral Director walked through the door that this was about nothing but greed; and I mean that in the truest sense of the word. The first words out of his mouth were that we had to redo all the paperwork so they could get their money. It went downhill quickly from there. This is the condensed version. He tried to up-sell me a full-blown funeral (we just wanted him cremated). I told him “No, that’s not what he wanted.” His response – “Well, he’s no longer here so you can do whatever you want now…” Strike one. He tried to sell me a casket to have Jeffrey cremated in. Now my blood is starting to boil and I asked him point blank – how many times have you resold this casket to others? Strike two. Then he informed me that I needed to come to the funeral home and identify Jeffrey’s body, and that would only cost $250.00 because they would have to clean him up. Strike three – you are out. At that point, I lost my presence of mind is my only excuse I can give. For the first time in his life, my father saw the full fury of my temper. I literally jumped up from the table, got in the funeral directors face and let him have it with both barrels. I asked him what in the hell did you do after you picked his body up? Drop him out of the van into a mud puddle or something? And why do I have to go identify the body when YOUR facility had picked him up less than two hours ago. At that point, I threw him out of the house.
Part II – Social Security