Calling the Dead

So I've been preoccupied with death lately.

I watch Six Feet Under every Monday night from 8:00 until midnight (to clarify, Bravo shows three full episodes back to back and since it's an HBO series they're longer than the 1-hour shows on cable, thus I spend every Monday night doing marathon-tube watching but it's sooo worth it). As the title of the show suggests, it's pretty morbid--funerals, cremation, suicides, kidnapping and beatings, murders, apocolyptic obsession, etc. Despite the show's abundant merits (writing and acting especially), there is little escaping the dark undertones.

For the past three weeks I've been working on an essay about my grandmother and her recent battle with cancer. I had set out for the piece to be more medical/objective regarding the initial diagnosis and (long) recovery process, but, as essays tend to do, it took on another life and I couldn't remove myself enough to NOT include Gran's lifespan and how much or how little of it she has left.

Finally, since the beginning of the semester I've been receiving phone calls in my office from various people--telemarketers, credit cards, insurance companies--all asking to speak to a guy named Z.H. He was a graduate student in the Literature track for the past few years but at the end of last semester the head of the track sent out an email notifying everyone of Z's suicide at a conference in Texas. This is all I know about him. This and that he apparently used to be in my office.

On February 20 I got a call:

GA office.

Hi, ma’am. Hope I’m calling the right number. I’m trying to reach someone who handles the business affairs or family affairs of a Z.H. Is that name familiar to you?

You know, he used to be in this office but no longer is.

Okay. I’m sorry about disturbing you. Have a fine day.

That’s okay. You too.

Bye bye now.

Bye bye.

Unlike all the previous callers, this man obviously knew that Z.H. was deceased: business affairs...family affairs. Still, I fumbled over the words used to be but no longer is. With all the other calls all I had to say was, "No" to "Is Z.H. in?" The man on the phone used a soft voice, I say used because it was clear that it was a put-on. I could feel the low resonance of his natural speaking voice. He probably thought I knew Z...I could have been his friend, his sister, his wife for all this guy knew. I can't remember the last time I was spoken to in such a thick tone of condolence. The tone itself made me sad, made me wish I knew Z and then made me wish that I didn't because if I did then I'd be one of the ones that lost him.

Death sucks even when no one is dying.