When word spread that my husband Dave had died, people were so kind, comforting me and my family with flowers, cards and treats. One of those treats was a pan of cinnamon rolls from a local cafe. Around Christmas, the last thing I needed was a pan of cinnamon rolls. So, I told Rebecca and Rachel to wrap them and toss them in the freezer. They broke each roll off, wrapped it tightly and put it in a bag that went in the freezer.
One of the things I dreaded about widowhood was the endless phone calls. With ten death certificates in hand, I made a long list of people I needed to contact. I had one huge stumbling block: I couldn’t call Boeing because I couldn’t find my secret “code”. I remember getting it last spring, reading “guard this number carefully in order to communicate with us”. My mind went into “secret code” overdrive. I took it and hid it in the file cabinet where no one breaking into our apartment would find it. What was I thinking? I spent two weeks searching the file cabinet and in other files trying to find that “secret code”.
I had just about decided that I didn’t need that pension after all when I got a phone call from Boeing. The lady was just lovely, expressing her condolences followed by, “We were notified by Social Security that your husband has died. Let’s talk about how you can get his pension.” She calmly told me to the process I needed to go through. And when I asked her what my code was, she gave it to me (after a few security questions). She told me how much I would get and that the first payment will be in a check for January and February with instructions on how to have it auto-deposited later.. When I hung up, I smiled in relief. Remembering the cinnamon rolls, I heated one up in the microwave and marked off that item on my list of people/companies to contact. MMM—-that cinnamon roll tasted so good with that difficult task done.
A month after Dave’s death, I thought I was doing so well with this long list of tasks when I got a letter in the mail, I hadn’t expected: I no longer had health insurance. I spent all day on the phone with Aetna and Boeing, being on endless hold before talking to six people. A mistake had been made on Boeing’s end and “We should have you entered in the system in 5 business days.” “But, I have a doctor’s appointment in 3 days”. “Well, you will have to pay and submit the bill” GROAN.
I checked the Aetna website repeatedly to see if I had insurance. Three days later before my doctor’s appointment, I was finally re-instated. I printed off the card with relief and then thought, “I think I can have a cinnamon roll”.
Next, I discovered that my credit card didn’t work. Multiple phone calls later, I discovered that it had been in Dave’s name and I no longer had it. When I called to open a new account, I was told, “I’m sorry we don’t have any empty applications. Our applications all have names on them. Maybe you should try on-line” On line worked very well and I had a new card within days. When I told the daughters about this latest crisis, Leah said, “I think it’s another cinnamon roll day.”
One cinnamon roll day after another and I had depleted my supply. This week we went to a local cafe where I bought several, brought them home cut them into bite size pieces and put them in the freezer. They aren’t for every day eating but for when I’ve completed a particularly difficult task. I no longer have daily tasks concerning Dave’s death but taxes are on the horizon. . . .I may need to go back for another dozen rolls.
