Another Step Forward: Life Insurance Claims, Funeral Costs, and Death Certificates

As I've been filling out different sets of paperwork to stop services since Willy passed, writing in the "date of death" has been a big trigger. No kidding, right? I'm so used to always having to provide his date of birth - for every doctor's appointment, on all the paperwork, for every insurance phone call for 11 years.  Adding "date of death" adds salt to the wound. Yes, I know he passed.  I am dealing with all that the grief process encompasses.  But having to physically write those numbers.  11/5/15.  I hate it.

Today I need to fill out the life insurance paperwork.  Todd and I both had the children's life insurance benefit through our University of Michigan employment.  We each had $5,000.  One of the first things the funeral home director advised us was that they discount child funerals by 75%. I wasn't necessarily worried about paying for the funeral.  If the life insurance wasn't enough somehow we'd come up with the rest.  But I thought it sad.  A discount for children's funerals. What a sad combination of words that is. Between both of our life insurance policies we will end up having almost enough to cover the funeral and headstone and other associated costs.

(Interesting twist: It was Met Life's intention to only allow ONE parent to collect life insurance on their child, regardless if they were married or not.  They hadn't changed the policy in their contract booklets so they agreed to honor both Todd and my claim on Willy.  However, immediately after we called them about Willy's death, they went to work reprinting the booklets.)

Anyway, I filled out all the life insurance papers and made copies for myself.  I find myself staring at the death certificate.  It's pretty.  In Michigan the birth and death certificates are a pink/purple/blue mix of colors.  I review all the information and it is all accurate.  The life of William Douglas Pickett all crunched down onto this colorful and very official document I hold in my hand. I see the birth date.  I remember that day well.  I see the death date.  I remember that day well.  And everything in between.  I remember it all.  We packed so much into his 11 years. Now it's over. Final. He has a death date.

I know he will live on in our hearts.  Advocacy efforts will continue. All who loved him will keep his memory alive.  In my heart of hearts I know his life was way more than what is described on this death certificate.  But I can't help resenting this piece of paper.  It's a nasty, evil piece of paper.  It's not even alive and I hate it anyway.  I want to punch it. Rip it in half. Take a lighter to it.

I quickly stuffed all the papers into the envelope provided by Met Life.  I don't want to look at the death certificate for another second.  I dropped it into the mailbox and as I hear the clang of the box shutting, I realize I've jumped one more hurdle in this journey. The next will be to watch for the check and make sure the funeral home and cemetery are all paid. Willy's final expenses.  Again, another horrible combination of words. But one more hurdle cleared.

William Douglas Pickett

3/12/04 - 11/5/15 

Gone from this plane but securely in my heart until the day we meet again.