Death humor

They put us in a bigger room with a frig and microwave and stocked it with complimentary fresh fruit, bottles of water, sodas, and popcorn. It was a simple act of compassion that meant a great deal to us.

“This is why I stay in the Hampton Inn,” I tell Barbara. “They’re always good to you.”

Hampton Inn is where we ended up on our girls’ camping trip the spring before when we actually stayed through the night in a tent during a tornado warning. After we finally moved to the Hampton Inn and slept most of the next day, I awoke on Mothers’ Day and accidentally mistook an Ambien four times stronger than what I was used to taking (it had been Bill’s) for my Vitamin D pill. After an aborted trip to the ER during which I figured out what had happened, I awoke in the car in the parking lot of the Hampton Inn. The window was cracked, and there was a note saying that the girls had gone shopping at Marshalls. I’d been left like a dog in the car on Mothers’ Day. And we’d had to book another night at the Hampton Inn then, too. Bill had come to the rescue and stayed with me while the girls went home. It was a legendary family story.

“Yes, I can see the review on the internet now," Barbara said.  "‘Hampton Inn is a great place to stay when you accidentally take an Ambien in the morning and need to sleep it off or when your husband dies.’”

I started laughing, then cried. I felt guilty for laughing, then despaired that I’d ever laugh again.

I didn't have to wonder about this long because we visited the funeral home next.