They turned off my friggin’ water!
I had just finished showering and was about to brush my teeth when suddenly, my water sputtered to a stop. Confused and a tad pissed, I dressed and flew downstairs. No water in the kitchen, no water in the downstairs bath, no water in the outside faucet!
That’s when I noticed the yellow tag on my door–the city had turned off my water for lack of payment. I stood there, embarrassed, wondering if my gossipy, judgmental neighbors knew.
Back inside, I sat down and did the only thing I knew to do: cry.
They turned off my fu*kin water! Didn’t they know I was grieving and not in my right mind? Yet another reminder that Craig was dead and I was alone, left to deal with everything on my own.
I cried; I stomped around, cussing him for dying, cussing myself for being such an airhead. Finally, when there were no more tears, I called the phone number on the shameful yellow notice. Somehow, I managed to get my words out, telling the kind woman the whole ghastly story of Craig being in hospice and dying and how we didn’t talk about paying the damn water bill.
She listened patiently and then with the tenderness of God herself, gently told me exactly where to go and what to do. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug her.
I hung up, grabbed my keys and a box of tissues, and sped down the boulevard. My first stop was my bank for cash-no checks, no credit cards, cash only! Next was the municipal building to reconcile my delinquent account.
That night, I had a long hot bubble bath and a tall glass of wine. I toasted the kind woman who helped get my water back on and to my beloved Craig, who was most certainly looking down and laughing.
In the midst of grief, humor can be a lifeline. It’s the life jacket that keeps you afloat in the sea of sadness.
Ellen DeGeneres
Note: This happened a few weeks after Craig died in 2009. This is one of many sweet memories I carry in my heart, one that makes me giggle out loud. I’m just ever so grateful that I got rinsed off before they disconnected my water.
