My ex-wife’s younger sister died yesterday.
It was no surprise to anyone: she’d been ailing for some time, and checked into a hospice for her few remaining days. This bothered me a great deal, not so much for the tenuous familial connection to me, but for the fact that she was the youngest of three. (I was married to the middle child. More than that I shall not say.)
It tears me up when someone younger than I am checks out of this plane of existence. (I know, I know: “better place.” Well, that’s the way I’ve always heard it should be.) Given that I had four younger siblings, three of whom are gone, this too is no surprise.
This is not a family that dawdles. They’d already made the funeral arrangements, so it was a simple matter of picking a date, and the date they picked is tomorrow, the 18th. I can’t do fourteen hours of driving in eighteen hours, so I can’t go.
At least I can send flowers, right? No, wait: in lieu of, they request a donation to the hospice. Okay, I can do that. As it happens, an actual American Express gift card landed on my doorstep yesterday; instead of agonizing over what to do with it, I’ll just run it through the donation box. The Lord worketh in mysterious ways, and all that.
However, no ways are more mysterious than those of online storefronts. I got through their donation page well enough, until the bottom: “Expiration date.” I didn’t even chuckle. Card expires: June 2021. I pulled down the year-selection box, and it quits at 2020.
And come to think of it, does Amex really think it’s going to take nine years to burn off a two-digit balance?
Fare thee well, lovely lady. Even if it’s not a better world, it’s surely better organized.