We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
passport
been sort of
dreading this day.
have to get madeline
a passport for our
upcoming trip to the banff.
excited that my
3.5 month-old baby
will have a passport
and will be traveling
outside the country.
also really excited
about the trip,
but i’ve found that
dealing with government
institutions is less than
thrilling since
liz
died.
applying for a passport
for a minor shouldn’t
be an issue.
the rules dictate that
both parents must be physically
present for a passport
application to be filed.
for most families,
this is likely just
an extreme inconvenience,
trying to find a time
when both parents
can meet in the same place,
to focus on the same objective,
at the same time.
but for me,
it’s a process that creates
an extreme amount of anxiety.
anxious about walking
into the passport
office with
madeline’s birth certificate,
social security card.
and, um, her mother’s
death certificate,
anxious about explaining
why i’m alone.
anxious about trying to
convince the people
in the office
that i’m not trying to
obtain a passport
in order to
kidnap my child,
and take her out
of the country.
anxious about talking
to another unflinchingly cold
government employee.
anxious about dealing with
another bureaucratic nightmare.
shit.
maybe i’m worrying about
this a little too much?
let’s just go.
it can’t be
that bad.
packed up madeline
and headed to the glendale.
found the passport office
and sat down
with all my paperwork,
filling in everything
but the boxes
asking for madeline’s
hair color
(sort of blond, sort of bald…how do i answer that one?)
and the ones
specific to
liz.
no box to check
for “deceased.”
just gonna have to
rely on the rather
colorful-looking
death certificate
to help the woman
behind the counter understand
my situation.
nervously walked up
to the counter
and said,
“i need to apply for a passport for my baby”
she looked me
up and down,
(yes, i look like an unshowered scumbag in need of haircut, but seriously…)
then leaned over the counter,
through the open glass,
staring down at madeline.
then her eyes shot
back to me.
“is the mother coming in?”
fuck.
here we go.
“no. she’s dead.”
she simply stared at me.
no reaction.
after a very uncomfortable
few seconds that found
another seemingly heartless
government worker
winning yet another
staring contest with me
(seriously…do they train these people to be unresponsive robots?).
i said,
“i have a death certificate.”
“give it to me.”
she demanded.
so i did.
awesome.
let’s just get
this over with.
she looked everything
over and disappeared
with my documents.
back 5 mins later
and we’re done.
good…i’ve had
enough for one day.
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Matt, I've had one of those passport days too. You've expressed the emotion of it well. And do we really have to carry the death certificate every time we cross the border until our kids are 18? My first trip to Canada, I didn't know this and the female border official was just as you've described here. No emotion, just gives me a lecture on bringing the death certificate along.
ReplyDeleteSo the second time flying into Canada, I took the death certificate. But I also looked for the youngest, sweetest-looking male official. The minute he heard the word "deceased," he said, "Oh that really sucks" and sent me through without requesting the certificate.
So the moral of my story was sweet, young men may not be jaded by the system yet.
I had to get a renewed passport for my son, he is 12, we went to England, (my home place) for Christmas. I hate my husbands' death certificate..... Cause of death was "multiple gunshot wounds". I hide it from my children......yes, it sucks..... shit!
ReplyDeleteI am lucky, living in a small town, the passport people were really nice when I got my son his passport.
ReplyDeleteI love your raw honesty. Today is a "fuck!!!" day. Most people flinch at that word. I totally understand that it means more than anyone who doesn't live in this world could ever understand.
ReplyDeleteThere are some days when that is all I am screaming in my head.
Today is one of those days.
Thanks for reassuring me that my reaction to the government robots is perfectly normal for a widow/er.