Chantal: I wasn't grieving, I was a full-time administrator of my father's life

When Chantal's (46) father passed away, she thought the tears would be the hardest part. But far from it: her days were mostly spent on hold, hunting down customer numbers, and filling in forms.

“My father was a man of order and routine. His socks were neatly sorted by color, and his paperwork was neatly organized in binders. At least, that's what we thought. When he passed away, it felt as though I had to neatly wrap up his estate. Except that estate turned out to consist mainly of stacks of paper, hold music, and 'press 1 for customer service'.

The first week was grief. The second week, the mail started coming. No longer condolence cards, but tax letters and policy statements. Every company—from the newspaper to the health insurer—had to be notified. And that was the start of a new full-time job.

I can still see myself sitting at the kitchen table: binders in front of me, his phone beside me, notebook at hand. Three hours later, I had canceled exactly one subscription. The rest of the time? Waiting. First, ten minutes in the queue. Then the question: 'What is the customer number?' Which was, of course, in an email I couldn't open. When I explained why, I got transferred. Waiting again. New employee, same drill: 'Sorry ma'am, without those details I can't help you any further.'

It felt like a game of snakes and ladders, but without a finish line. Facebook needed a death certificate, the housing corporation wanted a certificate of executorship, the notary asked for an overview of his bank accounts (which I couldn't access). Everything was blocked by something I didn't have yet.

And meanwhile, I just wanted to grieve. But every time I tried to open a box of photos, the phone rang: 'Good afternoon, this is the accounts receivable department. You have an outstanding invoice with us.' You guessed it: customer number, policy number, contract number. Everything except a little humanity.

Most of the staff were genuinely friendly. They understood my situation. But without a checkmark in their system, there was nothing they could do. The system rules, the human waits. Meanwhile, I spent hours flipping through my father's folders, which turned out to be far less organized than his sock drawer.

After a few weeks of calling, emailing, and sending letters, it was finally settled. I felt more exhausted than relieved. Grieving takes energy, but the administration around it completely drained me.

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The emotional burden after a death is heavy enough. Administrative red tape shouldn't be an extra hurdle. A digital overview can save your loved ones weeks of frustration and waiting time. With a service like Veault, you create a clear and complete overview of all practical matters, from customer numbers to contracts. That way, you don't pass on a scavenger hunt, but a head start, so your loved ones have time for what truly matters.