So that was an imperceptible break, wasn't it? I don't know what I want right now, so I can't be trusted to leave. Something happened yesterday that compels my return.
Paperwork.
In the service whenever a life change occurs, it's noted by writing the new information next to the old. Then you're supposed to initial next to the changes, indicating that they are both correct and intended. The changes had been made for me, and all I had to do was sign and initial. Sounds simple, but as I sat down with the folder of pages, the other part of the process caught me off guard.
Her name had a single line through it. So did her SSN. And her address.
Lined out.
Crossed out.
And it was the same on every subsequent page.
I welled up and bit the inside of my lip, and tried to understand how someone could do that. When you're grieving, I guess, good logic is hard to come by. I understand now, hours later, five states away. (I'm sitting at a breakfast table in Long Island) My reasoning to it now was that I saw the Almighty's new resident list, and she's arrived safely. It will be nice to have my own crossed off one day.
In an administrative note, I have a new cell number. My email is unchanged, so if you need me, email me. Thanks!
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