Three Small Words
It was a dismal rainy day when my husband, Theodore (Ted), finally died. He had been ill for the longest time; I wondered if he would ever pass so it was a relief when he eventually did.
Everything was in order; he planned it all: from the readings and songs to even the priest. He had selected the headstone and what he wanted it to say. The church service went along smoothly. He had handpicked the restaurant and menu for twenty people. Sadly, there were only twelve but he couldn’t have known who would come or plead excuses especially on such a dreary day.
He had expected the headstone would be ready in about six months and had arranged for a small gathering once it was in place. Well, six months came and went. Dutifully, I followed up, wanting this off my plate so I could move on. One year came and went with no answer. This was becoming ridiculous until I read these three words: SUPPLY CHAIN ISSUES.
“What do you suppose supply chain issues have to do with headstones? I pondered. I read news of supply chain issues affecting high technology companies and automakers but headstone makers.
Apparently, even old-fashioned businesses with time-honored manufacturing methods had fallen victim to supply chain issues. The headstone makers always had a ton of different types of stones including granite, marble, and bluestone, to name a few. “How could they possibly be out of stone is a mystery to me?”
As I thought about this new dilemma, I realized that I was not alone. Granted the problem affected me, but it was taking its toll on the monument building companies too.
Suddenly, I felt melancholy thinking about how many people died and how many people were, like me, alone. We all wanted the same thing. Before this virus came along, you died, had a service, and, sometime later, the company called to tell you the marker had been placed.
I needed to learn more about this mysterious situation. At least it would take my mind off waiting and moping around.
“I could not believe what I found out. I had to tell someone.” I called my sister, Aurelia. “Aurelia, you'll never believe what I found out.” I started to tell her what else was holding up Ted's headstone.
“Monument companies were not classified as ‘essential businesses' when the virus first hit,” I told her. “After the Monument Builders Association appealed the decision, the status was changed. By then, the backlog was already building up. And there’s more, Aurelia,” I said.
Here’s where the mystery deepens. I continued, “Apparently, 3M decided to stop manufacturing a special adhesive for the stencils that can withstand the force of sandblasting, something Monument companies depend on. I knew more than I ever wanted to. I just wanted to bury Ted.”
Finally, a small-scale Monument company took pity on me and found a tiny stencil with enough adhesive to work. “I did the best I could, Ted,” I said.
Bio
Concetta Pipia, JD, is the founder of the Aspiring Writers’ Society and founder of the AWS e-zine, of which she is co-editor of same. Ms. Pipia is published in Different Truths, an e-online magazine, and has contributed to several anthologies. She is an alumna of Parsons School of Design, Touro University School of Law, and is a certified Well Life Coach through the Dragontree Foundation. She loves dogs and horticulture.