I think we can all agree that there are certain phone calls we don't like, e.g., telemarketers, police, the IRS, bill collectors. It goes without saying that no one ever wants the phone call from the medical examiner that my husband and I both received nor do you want to look at the phone and see that the funeral home is calling.....AGAIN....two and a half months after your son passed away.
UGH, I've come to despise the phone, which really sorta makes me angry because I used to love to talk on the phone. My friend, who also lost a son, totally gets it....ringing phones can bring bad news, therefore, a ringing phone is a bad, bad thing. Seeing the missed call alert doesn't make me feel any better, though, so turning the volume off on the phone hasn't solved my problem with the phone. It is so hard for me to talk on the phone, I avoid it as often as I can. To return one phone call takes just about all the energy I have for one day. Texting is easier, but it drives me nuts that I have to keep a lot of conversations in my phone so I don't accidentally see that there's a thread at the bottom of the screen that was once a conversation between me and my son, a conversation that is over, but will always end with my urging, "You need to call me," a desperate mother's plea for a response from her son who had already gone home...oblivious to what was leading up the worst, most horrific phone call of my entire life.
So, I put off most phone calls and texts, if I can, for as long as I can. As for the funeral home, none of their phone calls have been out of place, they've been necessary, and the people I've dealt with have been nothing less than wonderful.....but, still....you don't want the phone call that the memory book (what I call the reverse baby book) is in and it made the nice lady cry and oh, she'll be bringing the certified copy of the official death certificate with her, along with the extra bookmarks you asked for, the ones the that have your teenage son's picture and obituary on them. The stupid phone keeps reminding me that I am not actually asleep, but awake, and the reality that every parent fears, is now my reality. How can that be? Whose life is this really, because surely I accidentally fell into a life that belongs to someone else? I think every year a teenager you know or your kids know loses his life too soon....never could I have imagined that this year it'd be my teenager....my phone call.
If you call me and I don't answer or it takes me a bit to return your texts, please don't take it personally....I'm still trying to figure out which life I really belong in and avoiding all the others.