The marker did not appear.
After a phone call, the next time we went to visit mom grave, we found a temporary marker with a white labeling strip on it with a man's name. We had no idea who the man was and I was not at all happy his name labeled my mother's grave.
I called and complained and asked when my mother's marker would be in place. A man told me some line about the bronze needing to be polished or rebronzed or something and that could take a month. I waited a month and called again as the temporary marker was still on there with a man' s name on it.
I told Ginny at the cemetary this temporary marker with another person's name on it was in bad taste and just plain tacky. I told her my mother's name should be on her grave, even it was a temporary marker. Ginny then began to actually research to find out what the problem was.
It turns out there was a piece paper the marker company needed a signature on when the marker was first paid for and ordered. That paper was never returned to the marker company so they assumed the marker order was canceled. The cemetery never followed up and, in reality, no marker was ever made, never in storage, never sent to be re-bronzed, it was not even in process. I was not a happy camper.
Ginny then got me a proof of what the marker should look like. I reviewed it and my father's name was misspelled. I called Ginny and told her that proof would not work and why. She assured me she would get me another proof. One week later I still had no other proof.
I called Ginny, complained and received a new proof which I was able to approve. I asked Ginny when the marker would be in place. She said it would take no longer than two months. I noted the date as December 8th which was a Saturday. To give the benefit of the doubt, I put Monday, December 10th as the next day to call Ginny in my Blackberry.
Somewhere in all these phone calls I did manage to impress enough on Ginny the need to get my mother's name on that temporary marker so that she actually went out to the grave, scraped off the man's name and added a new white labeling strip with my mother's name. In my opinon the white labeling tape is still a tacky, tacky, tacky way to do business but at least mom's grave was identified with her name.
Friday, December 7th, Claude and I stopped at the cemetery on our way to La Grange. No marker. My blood pressure was through the roof.
Monday, December 10th, I called and asked to speak with Ginny. She was not there. They connected me with her cell phone. I expressed my frustration at their lack of ability to get the marker on my mother's grave. Ginny assured me she would check on the situation and then call me back that afternoon. At 3:47 that afternoon I still had not heard from Ginny. I called her. She explained that she was not in the office and would check on it and call me back as soon as she knew something on Tuesday.
Tuesday, December 11th I was out most of the day. I had given Ginny my cell phone number again so she could call at anytime. I never received a call. I headed to Frankfort to the cemetery at the end of my day. I went first to the gravesite and noted for sure there was still no marker. Then I made a beeline for the office. That poor receptionist. I never raised my voice but he could tell it was controlled anger facing him. I stated I wanted to speak with Ginny. She was not in. She had been in the morning but was not there now. I explained she was to call me and I had received no call that day. He got Ginny on the phone and told her I was standing in the office. She gave him instructions as to what to tell me. The men were digging graves that day and had not had time to check the warehouse for my mother's marker. Not acceptable to me. She told him to assure me she would address the situation Wednesday and call me back. REALLY!?!?
After Ginny got off the phone I asked the receptionist who her supervisor was. He told me it was Tom DeLuca and he was the manager of the cemetery. I gave the receptionist my name and all my phone numbers and told him I wanted to speak with Mr. DeLuca Wednesday morning since the receptionist has assured me he was in some kind of training meetings off site that day. I only barely believe that.
Then I concluded by telling the receptionist that I planned to go home and contact Ryan Quarles and Damon Thayer my state congressman and senator to find the right person with whom to file a complaint. I told the receptionist he should tell this to Ginny and Mr. DeLuca. Then I assured the receptionist that I was using every fibre of my being to remain calm and try to be nice about this but it was ridiculous that a marker was paid for in September 2008 in total and after a July 10th burial there should be a marker on my mother's grave before December the 11th. There was no excuse for this process being so very messed up. He agreed. I left fuming.
I did come home and sent messages to Ryan and Damon.
This morning (Wednesday) I received a call from Ginny. The marker was there and would be set in place this afternoon. I told Ginny this was a good thing and that I would be there this afternoon to see the new marker. With a lot of surprise in her voice, Ginny said she wasn't sure what time in the afternoon. I told her I would be there and be sure it was set and right in the afternoon.
I called Papa and invited him to come with me after we went to the nursing home for our Wednesday afternoon program. We would go check the marker and then have a nice dinner together. He was very happy with this idea. I found myself worrying the entire way over that we would get there, it wouldn't be set and I would explode in front of him. My joy after arriving at mom's grave and finding the right marker, with everything spelled correctly and her flowers moved from the temporary marker to the permanent one was overflowing. Papa looked at it and was so very happy. He did not remembered picking out the little piece that said 'Together Forever'. I assured him he did that in 2008 when we went and picked out the plots and the markers. He was very content to see the grave with a proper marker.
We were headed to Zaxby's for dinner in Frankfort. When we pulled in and got out of my car, I noticed two young men in black suits with white shirts. Hmmmm...me thinks they might be missionaries. We hurried in and, sure enough, they were missionaires. I quickly asked if I could purchase their dinner. They were happy about that. Then they joined us to eat and chat. It was an added blessing for Papa to have young men to talk with.
We ended up have a wonderful afternoon and evening. The 'monumental' task is complete. At least until I have to get them to put the plate on with Papa's death date. Maybe that will go smoother.
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