Friday, March 17, 2006
A gentleman called from the hospital earlier asking about cremation for a premature baby. I couldn't talk to him, I froze. Tom was across the desk from me, looking concerned. I told the man I'd get a funeral director and hurriedly put him on hold. My grandson was born prematurely at the same hospital two months ago. He was sick for awhile and it was worrisome. I couldn't talk to the man. I don't know if he was the father, but he was crying. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry myself. They never called back, so i think the baby is going somewhere else. Tom said "good", he doesn't want the baby to come here either. I know sooner or later I'll see one. and I already know i'll want to hold it. Maybe that's when I'll make the switch from dead body to loved one. How could anyone think of a baby as anything but a loved one? I found myself a little angry when Tom told me of another baby who waited to be cremated for two months, because the dad was in jail and wouldn't sign the authorization and the mom was a flake. He even went to their apartment to make them sign after the dad was released, only to find that they'd been evicted. How could they not have loved the child enough to do the right thing? Or maybe their grief was so great that they couldn't face it? I think they were drug addicts or something, I hope that's their excuse, anyway. It makes me so mad how stupid people are sometimes. There are cremated remains in the back that have been there forever and no family will take them. What is that? I'm really glad the baby didn't come here. Another weekend when I'm a mess and I think Steve will want me to quit.