Since today is my father's birthday, I was thinking of switching focus and writing a post about him. I could do one about the time back in high school he got really high and had me drive him to the bagel store only to yell at me the whole time to slow down because the THC made everything appear to be moving lightening fast, but since this is a Sybil specific blog, I will instead write about the time he died and Sybil requested ten death certificates.
Roughly eight years ago my father took the easy way out by having a massive stroke in the shower down in Florida. When I called Sybil to tell her the news and that she might want to hop on a plane to come down to say her goodbyes, all she said was, "The important thing now is for him to get better." I liked her optimism and her refusal to come visit. It warmed the heart. So after her "get well soon" dance didn't work, good old dad died. I was making the funeral arrangements when the funeral director told me that he would soon have copies of the death certificate and that it's customary to print a few out for filing various papers. I got a couple, but I gave Sybil a call to ask if she wanted a copy. She requested I get her ten copies.
Now either she was framing them and giving them out as gifts or she had insurance policies all over town that she needed to hand in death certificates to redeem. To this day I have no idea why she needed so many. All I know is, she has no copies left but she did buy me a new Mac right after the funeral. I wonder if Apple's death discount is better than their student one.
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