The Inappropriate Clanging of Cymbals

Several people I care about have lost loved ones in the past few weeks. I have fumbled about trying to make the appropriate donations and send the appropriate things. Death is hard. I told someone today that death seems a cruel way to end life, but I guess if we could see it from the other side, it probably wouldn't seem so bad. That's where my hope is, at least. And, as much as we want to say the most correct and soothing things, most of us walk away thinking, "Yeah, like they hadn't heard THAT one before." But, we still have to say the things...because we do mean them, and as trite as they may sound coming out of our mouths, it still matters somehow that the things are said.

And, then, there's what not to do.

A friend's father was hospitalized last week, and so on Thursday I went to the hospital to visit. I already had gotten the head's up that it wasn't looking good so I was prepared. What I wasn't prepared for, however, was walking into the room to find the deceased's body. My friend was long gone from the hospital and they hadn't moved her father from the room yet. He was tucked in, though, and the room was silent. Peaceful, even. So, it was FAN-tastic that I came knocking on the half-opened door and bounding in, my big purse with the can of Progresso French Onion soup in it accidentally crashing a metal tray off the food table that was parked by the bathroom door right into this other metal tray from the edge of a another table, sending them tumbling to the cold tile, banging and clanging all the way down the wall, clapping the side of the metal trash can just before they finally landed just under the bed. You would've thought the drum section of the marching band had arrived. The poor guy was 93. He was probably enjoying the 'crossing over' till some noisy stranger piled in and interrupted the whole thing. I'm thinking they should put signs on the doors when the patient is no longer needing visitors, you know? Or at least move all the potentially noisy items from the tables...

So, I apologize, Mr. Elder. I took the can of soup out of my purse in hopes that unfortunate noise-makings may be avoided in the future.

--------------------------
As an aside, I worked in public service with widows and widowers for years and one thing we noticed, oddly, is how many people die in the same month they were born. It was disconcerting enough that I'm always a little extra careful every October. Just a head's up. ;-p

-b