Casey recently blogged about the frustration of phone conversations that have no point.
Honestly, I've just stopped answering the phone unless it's my mom or my MIL. If someone has something important to say, they'll leave a message. If they don't leave a message, I might drop them an email saying that I saw their number on the caller ID and ask what was up. If I don't recognize the number on the caller ID and they don't leave a message, my reaction depends on my mood - either I look the number up online, or I forget about it totally. I hate the phone. The self-absorbed part of me likes to think that email was invented for people just like me, who would much rather communicate via some sort of non-verbal-yet-still-verbal means of communication.
At this point, I'm done worrying if people think it's rude. It is the nature of my job that I answer the phone 60+ times a day. I'm not really into doing it once I get home. I've done this particular type of job (call center) longer than any other type of job I've ever had, to the point where my brain now associates phone with work. Aside from housework (and even that's debatable), I don't work at home. Home is where I go when it's not time to work. When you start unconsciously answering the home phone the same way you answer it at work, it's just time to give up.
Besides, who wants to call me at home and hear "thank you for calling XYZ Company. My name is Kat, how can I help you?"
First things first - I'd like to thank everyone who posted comments and condolences on the loss of my Grandma either here, on message boards we visit together or via email. It means a lot that you would all reach out when I was so low. Thank you all so much.
I arrived back in Wisconsin late Thursday night, after my flight was delayed by two hours due to bad weather. I normally don't imbibe while flying, but while in the air, I had a Bailey's - one of Grandma's favorites. I poured it over ice, looked out the window into the darkness, said "cheers, Grandma," and drank up. The empty bottle is now next to one of my favorite pictures of her - I'd show you if I had a functioning scanner, but a description will have to suffice.
It was taken on my first birthday - she is sitting on the couch holding me. I am wearing pink footie pajamas and one of those pointy birthday hats with the elastic under the chin - I'm also wearing a big smile. She is bright-eyed, and has her head back, laughing at something. She is 49 years young and absolutely beautiful in this picture.
The wake was, for lack of a more appropriate word, nice. The funeral home did a wonderful job. Some people complain that their deceased loved one doesn't look natural, with either too much makeup, or hair done in a style that either didn't suit them or that they wouldn't wear. But my Grandma looked perfect. So natural, and so peaceful. She looked as if at any moment she'd open her eyes, sit up, and ask what was going on. She was lovely both in life and in death.
I also found out that the moment she passed, she had everyone around her and went very quietly with much dignity - she had been removed from life support and went so peacefully that the doctor had to be the one to tell everyone that she'd gone. Nobody could tell.
Burying Grandma was without a doubt the most difficult thing I've ever been through. Thank God that no matter how dysfunctional we can be at times, I have a very loving and supportive family. We all helped each other to make it through the wake and funeral, and we will all continue to help each other through the rest of our lives.