This was an earthquake. I could feel the ground shake as I read it. Thank you for writing, Mary. Especially this. Holding warm, kind space for you from here.
Beautifully written, as ever, Mary. I'm sorry you had to go through so many hoops to sort something so simple. The worst thing is the stealing of our time, when death makes us aware of that most precious commodity like nothing else.
Thank you, Matt. I appreciate your kindness. You’re right: the loss of time, especially as you age. I could not imagine how such a simple problem could escalate into such insanity.
I had a similar experience with Comcast/Xfinity that ended with me screaming at the rep. I refused to give a death certificate because it was only an internet service, not national security. Same scenario — I paid the bill but the acct was in my deceased husband’s name. I now do my account changes on line where they cannot tell that I am not him. You are a stronger woman than I am.
Lou, I so wish I hadn’t registered it in his name. But because he was the one who used it, on his device, there was no other option. Two companies kept shuffling me back and forth; the purchase records in my name belonged to one, and the tech stuff was taken care of (ha!) by another. I switched over the utilities online, but same situation. Everything is still in his name, although I’ve paid for them for decades. Insanity. I don’t know if I’m strong. Maybe it took a breakdown to call it a breakthrough.😊
Mary, We go through so many indignities after the loss of a spouse or loved one when we are tasked with sorting things out. It's never easy. Sending hugs your way, beautiful you.
I cannot be the first or second - so I'll be the next, the next of many, or any - anyone who reads this will be gobsmacked by your writing skill and your capacity to weave wit and irony between the sheaves of grief and love. Amazing writing, of course. It reads like butter. Sad butter, wrapped in a life, a life shared, and the angst of being spared. Thank you for exposing your wounds to view, and sharing the love and memories you shared. You are not alone in the world when your worth is so profound. Everyone I know who has suffered through life, dying and death could surely relate to such powerful descriptions. Both of my ex-wives and both of my ex-near-wives are still alive and I never felt as close to anyone on a scale equivalent to what you've described. I salute you. I don't know where you are or if we might ever meet, but I cannot imagine that feeling. As for the bot-fight with camera company - I CAN relate. I use a web hosting and email service (sole access now for more than 22 years; yet every time I alert those fuckers to a problem with their system I have to curse horribly at least 10 times for the bot to escalate the problem to a 'human supervisor' to solve their problem so I can use their product that they never miss a penny or a day charging me for every renewal. I could change, as I have many things to Substack (so happily) but the others are business related and I must use that service from someone. But I digress. I'll close with this - you are a fantastic writer, but that doesn't tell you anything new. I would put your piece I've just read on a pedestal of virtue, as good or better than Joan Didion's novel and play about her loss. I can feel your hurt in nearly every line. You are incredibly gifted. Sadly, you are not in my postal code or I would request that we meet. Cheers, Mark
Mark. I’m deeply honored. To be mentioned in the some breath as Didion - the writer I learned my chops from long before she became St. Joan - is immense. And when the bot asks “Did we answer your question?” I’m ready to commit technocide. As I said earlier, it’s good to know I’m not alone. Substack is a balm to the soul. In solidarity, Mary xo
There is a documentary on Netflix - I've watched it a couple of times, and there are few interviews and documentary pieces on YouTube - I've enjoyed her talent, and her 'crazy' ... and, when I least expected to glean insights on her from any other perspective, I was watching a Moth talk - Taylor Negron https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z12ISVpdh60 - hope you enjoy!
Thank you, Mark! When I was an adolescent back in the 70s, I used to copy out her sentences by hand, as she did with Hemingway’s. It’s a good practice when you find a writer who cuts to the bone. I will check out these sources.
I wrote about you in the p.s. section of my column today - I expect you will have some visitors and subscribers as a result; my 'reach' tracking shows a lot more clicks than usual .... - https://markmusing.substack.com/p/worth-it
Writing from Widowland I have a similar story having to do with my husband’s credit card that took 2 years to resolve. Yes they wanted the Death Certificate (which I tearfully and traumatically dug out of the Go Box where Important Papers are stored in case of Wildfire) but of course even that didn’t satisfy them. Etc Etc Etc.
Some day we can share our Ashes Story also
But how happy it makes me to see that your pen has found its way back to paper and your fingers to your keyboard
My condolences, Laura, again. Such a tough place to live. The lack of empathy is beyond words. This reminds me that I need to assemble a Go Box, and set up a safety deposit box somewhere. But that’s another issue: can we trust the banks? Who can we trust? Difficult, scary times. I feel energized now to set up a place just to talk about these things. We’re in this together.
"The fence and railings are now coated in the color of neglect." Oh, my. I have that same color at my house. I still have things in his name because I surrendered: it didn't put me on the floor each time I received another statement. And the endless loop of explaining was no longer worth it. I managed all the bills, established my own credit, made good money before I retired. Why was the default setting the male name? There's a lovely tune, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. Pat Metheny & Charlie Haden. It soothes me. It's a hard world out there. And yeah: sometimes I wonder why on earth I'm still in it. Be gentle with yourself, Mary. Watch for the glimmers....🤲🏼
Thank you, MissAnneThrope. I did the same: banking and credit cards in my name, purchased cars and major appliances solely on my own, without his involvement (paid for maintenance myself) and still have excellent credit. So when these things happen, it’s a shock. Thank you for the music recommendation; I will check it out. Hugs to you. Hope you are well.
A devastating story by you-a strong and determined woman who is navigating what we don’t want to think about- losing a spouse and all that comes with it.
I’ve lost my only child years ago, and recently my Mom. I write about parenting and caretaking my daughter and then living with her loss. I am lucky to have my husband. It sends shivers down my spine to think of losing him too.
Thank you for your candid , stark story which has ripples of love in between each line with your devotion to your deceased husband as you navigate life today and proceed to carry on.
PS: I totally get it about being a woman and how we are treated differently. Some bills are in my husband‘s, some in mine. They will not speak with you unless the person with their name on the account gives permission, then hands you the phone, which is so ridiculous. They will not put these bills in two people‘s names- only one, so I guess this is common problem postmortem. Sorry you had to go through all of that.
Susan, my condolences for your devastating losses. My heart goes out to you. I worry about others in my life who are ill, struggling through the indignity of insurance policies and the madness of “try these nine expensive, useless drugs before we authorize the least costly proven cure.” The cruelty is astounding. So very sorry you’re dealing with this. I’m finding out how many of us are forced to rage against the machine. Thank you for sharing your experience.
This is why I haven't gone to the T-Mobile store to transfer the cell phone account into my name. At this point it's been 3.5 years and I'm a embarrassed and infuriated that I can't make this change online. I'm angry that my husband died at 53 and now I'm raising an almost 13-year-old boy on my own. I'm pissed off that I have to dig through my files to find a copy of Steven's death certificate to bring to a cell phone store to I can claim ownership of something I've been paying for since August 2021.
At the same time I understand there are administrative systems in place for dealing with death. There's a right way and a wrong way of doing things, a means of bringing order to the chaos. Most women have trained themselves in the art of "holding it together" for fear of being labeled hysterical (an official mental health disorder until 1980). It feels dangerous to become "unhinged", but how else to we make sense that a whole human being is poof, gone from our lives forever?
The dirty little secret of widowhood is that it takes time, years, to regain some sense of equilibrium. It does get easier to maintain our sanity for longer periods of time, but maybe that's precisely why it feels so frightening when the craziness returns. Do not judge yourself harshly Mary. Sending you much love and big hugs. XO 🥰❤️
Amy. It’s so hard. I waited more than a year before I disconnected his phone the email, which he’d been allowed to keep after 45 years with his workplace, was cut off for no good reason by some bureaucratic shortly after his death. All of his personal accounts were linked to it. So: poof. And no, who wants to be called hysterical? I was celebrating my victory over Goliath when I got seriously triggered. What a world we live in now.
My heart hurt reading this. It's so beautifully written, Mary. Thank you for getting it down and sharing it. I have experienced these customer service circles of hell with Verizon, Booking.com, and LG—months long, all of them. You are not alone. With Verizon, I finally fired off a letter and sent a hard copy to every member of corporate management in New York City (that worked). I cried with Booking.com, but still had to jump through their hoops. LG brought me to my knees in frustration, wondering if I lived in an alternate universe. With all three, the lack of humanity frightened me. It's so wrong. I don't know how these people slept at night, and I said so. I am so sad you had to go through this at such an emotionally fragile time. Sending you warmth and comfort and holding space for you.
Maria, thank you. I felt alone, targeted, and dehumanized. There were times when I wondered if I was being hacked. I mean, WTF? It all seemed so clearcut to me. So obvious. I don’t set up any smart home features, as my LG washing machine assumed I would do. Even the electric teakettle I just bought- so easy, it heats water to the correct temperature and then shuts off - has a “smart” control system. Aargh. The simpler, the better. You’re right: we’re dancing with the devil, who refuses to let us go. Technology drains people of humanity.
You've woven a complex piece here, twining time frames, facts and feelings in the most beautiful way. I am heartened when you offer yourself the love and grace to write; and I benefit from that love and grace as well as your candor and your skill.
Kim, you are a sweetheart. I know that this is an old-fashioned word, but it seems right in this Valentine month. I always look forward to seeing your clear-eyed poems and posts. You always strike the right note. Great to be with you in CWC.
This world is not made for us Boomers. Even my daughters long for the days before cell phones and internet and social media. How simple life seemed to be back then. I sympathize with you. All we can do is hang in there and do the best we can. Much love to you, Mary.
It’s tough to navigate. You master one thing, only to be confronted with another. How I miss rotary phones and portable record players. Streaming? What does that even mean? I cheer the young Luddites.
First, I want to answer your rhetorical query: Yes, it matters. It doesn't escape me that I've seen you bloom and grow on Substack since your husband departed. The seismic waves of grief that echo from such a profound loss are difficult to describe. Yet you do it, over and over. There's an unteachable quality to your writing that has captivated me and thousands of others. I'm deeply saddened to hear this company caused you such fractal frustration that it resulted in damage to your mental health. They should be ashamed but alas, they have no soul.
I take solace in knowing this heart-wrenching piece has taken shape. Kudos to you and your ability to create while in a state of disrepair. This post is mesmerizing in its stark portrayal of a widow's grief. The effort you take to humanize your loss with wit and asides is your unique gift. You are a master storyteller. I'm grateful that you're here and so honored to be your friend. Peace to you.
I thank you with all my heart. I don’t think you know how close I was to the abyss. Writing this was my way out. But I had to take the few breaks I allowed myself, because - as you know, my health was severely at risk - I had a few moments of lucidity when I realized that I could, literally, die. Sleep is essential. Our culture celebrates the deprivation of it. Romanticizes it. I don’t know if you’ve read Adam Gopnik’s recent piece on insomnia in The New Yorker. It’s scary beyond words.
I want to return the compliment because I’ve seen how much you’ve grown on Substack! You have compassion, a compelling story, and the gift of telling it. That’s quite the trifecta.
I don’t know if I would have made it through without your kindness and support. You are a wonderful friend.
This was an earthquake. I could feel the ground shake as I read it. Thank you for writing, Mary. Especially this. Holding warm, kind space for you from here.
Thank you, Kate. Hugs to you.
Beautifully written, as ever, Mary. I'm sorry you had to go through so many hoops to sort something so simple. The worst thing is the stealing of our time, when death makes us aware of that most precious commodity like nothing else.
Thank you, Matt. I appreciate your kindness. You’re right: the loss of time, especially as you age. I could not imagine how such a simple problem could escalate into such insanity.
I had a similar experience with Comcast/Xfinity that ended with me screaming at the rep. I refused to give a death certificate because it was only an internet service, not national security. Same scenario — I paid the bill but the acct was in my deceased husband’s name. I now do my account changes on line where they cannot tell that I am not him. You are a stronger woman than I am.
Lou, I so wish I hadn’t registered it in his name. But because he was the one who used it, on his device, there was no other option. Two companies kept shuffling me back and forth; the purchase records in my name belonged to one, and the tech stuff was taken care of (ha!) by another. I switched over the utilities online, but same situation. Everything is still in his name, although I’ve paid for them for decades. Insanity. I don’t know if I’m strong. Maybe it took a breakdown to call it a breakthrough.😊
Mary, We go through so many indignities after the loss of a spouse or loved one when we are tasked with sorting things out. It's never easy. Sending hugs your way, beautiful you.
Thank you, Pamela. It was delayed PTSD with this one. It is comforting to know that I’m not alone. Widowhood is most certainly a feminist issue.
Mary, You are not alone. Such a loss can trigger many things including PTSD. I have it from compounded losses.
Pamela, I am so sorry to hear that. Complex PTSD exists and can be triggered by anything. Warm thoughts and comfort to you.
As a widow of a little over a year, I understand 100% what you're dealing witj
Patricia, my deep condolences on your loss. It’s a shock to deal with the aftermath. Thank you for your kindness. Hugs to you, too.
I cannot be the first or second - so I'll be the next, the next of many, or any - anyone who reads this will be gobsmacked by your writing skill and your capacity to weave wit and irony between the sheaves of grief and love. Amazing writing, of course. It reads like butter. Sad butter, wrapped in a life, a life shared, and the angst of being spared. Thank you for exposing your wounds to view, and sharing the love and memories you shared. You are not alone in the world when your worth is so profound. Everyone I know who has suffered through life, dying and death could surely relate to such powerful descriptions. Both of my ex-wives and both of my ex-near-wives are still alive and I never felt as close to anyone on a scale equivalent to what you've described. I salute you. I don't know where you are or if we might ever meet, but I cannot imagine that feeling. As for the bot-fight with camera company - I CAN relate. I use a web hosting and email service (sole access now for more than 22 years; yet every time I alert those fuckers to a problem with their system I have to curse horribly at least 10 times for the bot to escalate the problem to a 'human supervisor' to solve their problem so I can use their product that they never miss a penny or a day charging me for every renewal. I could change, as I have many things to Substack (so happily) but the others are business related and I must use that service from someone. But I digress. I'll close with this - you are a fantastic writer, but that doesn't tell you anything new. I would put your piece I've just read on a pedestal of virtue, as good or better than Joan Didion's novel and play about her loss. I can feel your hurt in nearly every line. You are incredibly gifted. Sadly, you are not in my postal code or I would request that we meet. Cheers, Mark
Mark. I’m deeply honored. To be mentioned in the some breath as Didion - the writer I learned my chops from long before she became St. Joan - is immense. And when the bot asks “Did we answer your question?” I’m ready to commit technocide. As I said earlier, it’s good to know I’m not alone. Substack is a balm to the soul. In solidarity, Mary xo
There is a documentary on Netflix - I've watched it a couple of times, and there are few interviews and documentary pieces on YouTube - I've enjoyed her talent, and her 'crazy' ... and, when I least expected to glean insights on her from any other perspective, I was watching a Moth talk - Taylor Negron https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z12ISVpdh60 - hope you enjoy!
Thank you, Mark! When I was an adolescent back in the 70s, I used to copy out her sentences by hand, as she did with Hemingway’s. It’s a good practice when you find a writer who cuts to the bone. I will check out these sources.
I wrote about you in the p.s. section of my column today - I expect you will have some visitors and subscribers as a result; my 'reach' tracking shows a lot more clicks than usual .... - https://markmusing.substack.com/p/worth-it
I can't seem to be able to put together a cognizant thought but know as long as he is re-membered he will always remain with you
Andrea, your words and kindness come through. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Dearest Mary
Writing from Widowland I have a similar story having to do with my husband’s credit card that took 2 years to resolve. Yes they wanted the Death Certificate (which I tearfully and traumatically dug out of the Go Box where Important Papers are stored in case of Wildfire) but of course even that didn’t satisfy them. Etc Etc Etc.
Some day we can share our Ashes Story also
But how happy it makes me to see that your pen has found its way back to paper and your fingers to your keyboard
In solidarity and with love
laura
My condolences, Laura, again. Such a tough place to live. The lack of empathy is beyond words. This reminds me that I need to assemble a Go Box, and set up a safety deposit box somewhere. But that’s another issue: can we trust the banks? Who can we trust? Difficult, scary times. I feel energized now to set up a place just to talk about these things. We’re in this together.
yes we are in this together
see you tomorrow on the CWC grief zoom I hope 🤗
"The fence and railings are now coated in the color of neglect." Oh, my. I have that same color at my house. I still have things in his name because I surrendered: it didn't put me on the floor each time I received another statement. And the endless loop of explaining was no longer worth it. I managed all the bills, established my own credit, made good money before I retired. Why was the default setting the male name? There's a lovely tune, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. Pat Metheny & Charlie Haden. It soothes me. It's a hard world out there. And yeah: sometimes I wonder why on earth I'm still in it. Be gentle with yourself, Mary. Watch for the glimmers....🤲🏼
Thank you, MissAnneThrope. I did the same: banking and credit cards in my name, purchased cars and major appliances solely on my own, without his involvement (paid for maintenance myself) and still have excellent credit. So when these things happen, it’s a shock. Thank you for the music recommendation; I will check it out. Hugs to you. Hope you are well.
Phenomenal writing,
A devastating story by you-a strong and determined woman who is navigating what we don’t want to think about- losing a spouse and all that comes with it.
I’ve lost my only child years ago, and recently my Mom. I write about parenting and caretaking my daughter and then living with her loss. I am lucky to have my husband. It sends shivers down my spine to think of losing him too.
Thank you for your candid , stark story which has ripples of love in between each line with your devotion to your deceased husband as you navigate life today and proceed to carry on.
PS: I totally get it about being a woman and how we are treated differently. Some bills are in my husband‘s, some in mine. They will not speak with you unless the person with their name on the account gives permission, then hands you the phone, which is so ridiculous. They will not put these bills in two people‘s names- only one, so I guess this is common problem postmortem. Sorry you had to go through all of that.
Susan, my condolences for your devastating losses. My heart goes out to you. I worry about others in my life who are ill, struggling through the indignity of insurance policies and the madness of “try these nine expensive, useless drugs before we authorize the least costly proven cure.” The cruelty is astounding. So very sorry you’re dealing with this. I’m finding out how many of us are forced to rage against the machine. Thank you for sharing your experience.
This is why I haven't gone to the T-Mobile store to transfer the cell phone account into my name. At this point it's been 3.5 years and I'm a embarrassed and infuriated that I can't make this change online. I'm angry that my husband died at 53 and now I'm raising an almost 13-year-old boy on my own. I'm pissed off that I have to dig through my files to find a copy of Steven's death certificate to bring to a cell phone store to I can claim ownership of something I've been paying for since August 2021.
At the same time I understand there are administrative systems in place for dealing with death. There's a right way and a wrong way of doing things, a means of bringing order to the chaos. Most women have trained themselves in the art of "holding it together" for fear of being labeled hysterical (an official mental health disorder until 1980). It feels dangerous to become "unhinged", but how else to we make sense that a whole human being is poof, gone from our lives forever?
The dirty little secret of widowhood is that it takes time, years, to regain some sense of equilibrium. It does get easier to maintain our sanity for longer periods of time, but maybe that's precisely why it feels so frightening when the craziness returns. Do not judge yourself harshly Mary. Sending you much love and big hugs. XO 🥰❤️
Amy. It’s so hard. I waited more than a year before I disconnected his phone the email, which he’d been allowed to keep after 45 years with his workplace, was cut off for no good reason by some bureaucratic shortly after his death. All of his personal accounts were linked to it. So: poof. And no, who wants to be called hysterical? I was celebrating my victory over Goliath when I got seriously triggered. What a world we live in now.
All the strategies we didn’t know we’d need.
Love and gratitude to you, dear friend.💕❤️🫶🙏
My heart hurt reading this. It's so beautifully written, Mary. Thank you for getting it down and sharing it. I have experienced these customer service circles of hell with Verizon, Booking.com, and LG—months long, all of them. You are not alone. With Verizon, I finally fired off a letter and sent a hard copy to every member of corporate management in New York City (that worked). I cried with Booking.com, but still had to jump through their hoops. LG brought me to my knees in frustration, wondering if I lived in an alternate universe. With all three, the lack of humanity frightened me. It's so wrong. I don't know how these people slept at night, and I said so. I am so sad you had to go through this at such an emotionally fragile time. Sending you warmth and comfort and holding space for you.
Maria, thank you. I felt alone, targeted, and dehumanized. There were times when I wondered if I was being hacked. I mean, WTF? It all seemed so clearcut to me. So obvious. I don’t set up any smart home features, as my LG washing machine assumed I would do. Even the electric teakettle I just bought- so easy, it heats water to the correct temperature and then shuts off - has a “smart” control system. Aargh. The simpler, the better. You’re right: we’re dancing with the devil, who refuses to let us go. Technology drains people of humanity.
Mary, you are so precious. You matter.
Hugs to, Margaret. And right back at you.🫶
💛💛💛
You've woven a complex piece here, twining time frames, facts and feelings in the most beautiful way. I am heartened when you offer yourself the love and grace to write; and I benefit from that love and grace as well as your candor and your skill.
Kim, you are a sweetheart. I know that this is an old-fashioned word, but it seems right in this Valentine month. I always look forward to seeing your clear-eyed poems and posts. You always strike the right note. Great to be with you in CWC.
This world is not made for us Boomers. Even my daughters long for the days before cell phones and internet and social media. How simple life seemed to be back then. I sympathize with you. All we can do is hang in there and do the best we can. Much love to you, Mary.
It’s tough to navigate. You master one thing, only to be confronted with another. How I miss rotary phones and portable record players. Streaming? What does that even mean? I cheer the young Luddites.
Mary,
First, I want to answer your rhetorical query: Yes, it matters. It doesn't escape me that I've seen you bloom and grow on Substack since your husband departed. The seismic waves of grief that echo from such a profound loss are difficult to describe. Yet you do it, over and over. There's an unteachable quality to your writing that has captivated me and thousands of others. I'm deeply saddened to hear this company caused you such fractal frustration that it resulted in damage to your mental health. They should be ashamed but alas, they have no soul.
I take solace in knowing this heart-wrenching piece has taken shape. Kudos to you and your ability to create while in a state of disrepair. This post is mesmerizing in its stark portrayal of a widow's grief. The effort you take to humanize your loss with wit and asides is your unique gift. You are a master storyteller. I'm grateful that you're here and so honored to be your friend. Peace to you.
Colleen,
I thank you with all my heart. I don’t think you know how close I was to the abyss. Writing this was my way out. But I had to take the few breaks I allowed myself, because - as you know, my health was severely at risk - I had a few moments of lucidity when I realized that I could, literally, die. Sleep is essential. Our culture celebrates the deprivation of it. Romanticizes it. I don’t know if you’ve read Adam Gopnik’s recent piece on insomnia in The New Yorker. It’s scary beyond words.
I want to return the compliment because I’ve seen how much you’ve grown on Substack! You have compassion, a compelling story, and the gift of telling it. That’s quite the trifecta.
I don’t know if I would have made it through without your kindness and support. You are a wonderful friend.