TREAT US WIDOWS WITH KINDNESS AND COMPASSION, PLEASE

This post is going to be a rant so ... fair warning. I make no promises to write eloquently; to express myself in an unbiased manner. This post is about me and about some of the people who I’m connecting with on Twitter; people who have also lost a loved one. It’s about my rip on bureaucracy.

Why you gotta be like that?

No, really. Why? I understand rules and policies. I get that there are scammers, which means everyone has to pay the price of a cautious society. I get it and it’s fine. But can’t rules be enforced with compassion? Can’t grace be shown in times of grief? When people have suffered a loss and are in shock, why isn’t time being taken to explain, maybe repeatedly, what’s happening in different practical matters?

Why?

I’ve been lucky in many of the practical areas of my life that were thrown into a tailspin after My Favourite Husband (MFH) died. 

Like many of the funeral homes here in Canada, the one I chose for MFH's final arrangements offered a complimentary followup a short time after the funeral where staff assisted me with things such as cancelling his driver's license and completing the paperwork to collect my survivor's pension (money MFH had paid into the government pension fund for which I’m now eligible). Many of the government agencies I might’ve had to contact and work with on my own, the licensed representative could do on my behalf. I was sceptical about how it would work prior to my appointment but it was seamless and I was grateful to have one place to deal with a lot of it.

I had a good relationship already with my bank and that has only strengthened in the past 15 months, as it has helped navigate through the tricky course of the financial world. 

One of the biggest places I received help was from the benefits area of the company MFH worked at. The coordinator I dealt with was amazing, ensuring any assistance I was entitled to was coordinated effortlessly. There were benefits I was aware of and some I wasn’t. One of the biggest things, for me, was the offer to connecting me with grief counselling should I so desire. My answer was a resounding yes! The coordinator contacted the counselling company and I was in to see a counsellor the day after I requested to be. I had four months of counselling, twice a month (agreed upon by myself and my counsellor). 

All of this was wonderful. And appreciated. Most of the big stuff has gone smoothly. 

It’s the stuff that I didn’t expect to have trouble with that has been rude. 

It was the supposed “tax expert” who had “experience” preparing final tax returns and tax returns for their spouses; returns that I got information from the government on as well as correcting her mistakes. Me, being on top of her to get clearance from the government to file MFH's final taxes. Her incompetence with pretty much everything to do with his (and my) taxes, which made me weep out of frustration.

It was the repairman who came to fix my landline (that I’ve only kept for emergencies) who tried to bully me into allowing him to run checks on other services without explaining why, all the while being rude and demeaning. Just fix the phone, OK?

It was Amazon that insisted on speaking with MFH about the account; one I couldn’t change to my name or cancel without his permission. How many times do I need to tell you, "He's dead"? 

While the inconveniences have made me grumpy and many other unpleasant adjectives, it’s nothing compared to what I’m hearing from others in the grief community.

One widow doesn’t have quick access to counselling. Are you kidding me? In a world where we talk about mental health being a priority, how can counselling not be a priority? 

Others receive messages thanking them for providing information about their deceased loved one and end the message by saying, “Have a nice day.” Are you even reading what you’re replying to?

I’m reading about wait times for financial assistance for which people are entitled, threats to disconnect services, and angst over what the world wants while we are trying to figure out what we want.

We want space to breathe. We have been gut-punched with emotion over the loss of a loved one. Our worlds, as we know them, have been turned upside down. Whether we were prepared for this new reality or not, well, we weren’t. We are doing our best but we need you to do your best, too. And sometimes that means not treating us like another customer. It means treating us like a human being.

We are all going to experience loss in our lifetime. It’s going to be hard and it’s going to be emotional and it’s going to suck. And, eventually, our ability to blend our grief into our new life will mean we will be able to take some of the emotion out of some of our decisions.

But it’s going to take time. This is a perfect time for you to reach out to us with hands of help so we can do the same for others and pass the love on.

Grace, kindness and compassion. It’s not much but, right now, it’s everything.

❤️