Rest in Peace?

Have you ever heard the comedy routine that starts, “I knew it was going to be a bad day when I read my name in the obituary column”?  Well, let me tell you, this really wasn’t funny when I had it happen to me!  It all started this morning when I went outside to pick up the paper, I thought it peculiar that Brock, our paperboy, had laid it neatly on the door mat.  Normally, I heard it thwack against the door as he attempted to toss it onto the porch.  Ricocheting from the toss, the paper was usually retrieved from the azaleas that formed a hedge.  I sat down to read the front page while my coffee finished brewing, I heard the phone blast its annoying ring.  I was newly retired, and looked forward to my peace and quiet each morning, now that I didn’t have to join the rat race.

“Honey, can you get that, I’m running late,” my wife yelled from the bedroom. 

“Sure, thing,” I said, putting down the paper.

I grabbed it before it could ring another time. It was Jake from next door.  When he heard my voice, he almost sounded relieved. 

“Grady, is that you?”  he sputtered. 

“Sure, Jake, what’s on your mind?”

“Man, am I glad to hear your voice! Have you looked at today’s paper?” he asked.

“I was about to,” I replied, admittedly a little puzzled.

“Well, turn to page 9A and take a look at the obits,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you later.  Sure is great to talk to you. Thought you were a goner for sure!”  He hung up.

Boy, he’s a weird one, I thought.  Nonetheless, I thumbed over to page 9A.  Three columns over, five  sections down, it leapt from the page.  There it was, in bold print. My name!  I read the words quickly, the first time, then slower, with a little more thought, the next three times.  It seemed that this guy, with my name, had lived here in Atlanta all of his life [just like me], had four children [again, like me] and had been married to his wife, Ann, for thirty five years [now this was just too strange, my wife’s name is Ann, too, and, you guessed it, we just celebrated our thirty-fifth anniversary!].  Well, ain’t that a kick in the head? I pondered!

“Annie, come in here, you gotta see this!” I yelled. 

In a whirlwind, my wife ran into the kitchen.  Not in response to my call, mind you, but in a mad dash to grab a cup of joe and race out the door so that she wouldn’t be late for work.  “What is it, dear?” she asked while she poured her morning coffee. 

I thrust the paper under her nose.  “Oh, my!  Isn’t that something?”  she said. “Have you ever heard of another person with your name, or I guess I should say our names, living nearby?”

“Nope,” I replied nonchalantly. 

Just then, there was a knock at the door.  Ann was about to leave, so she opened it to find her friend, Suzanne standing there, tears streaming down her face, and a large plastic cake carrier in her hands.

“Annie, I am so sorry,” she started, “why didn’t you call me?”

“Sue, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Annie asked.

Well, Suzanne looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted a second head!  “Annie?  I just heard about Grady.  Luke read it in this morning’s paper. ” 

“Sue, I think you’d better come inside, there’s been a misunderstanding!  Grady’s  fine.”

The two women walked back into the kitchen.  Suzanne’s tears had stopped.  And, that wonderful smell of fresh baked pound cake accompanied them. 

“Guess, I had better call in to work to tell them I’m going to be late,”  Annie laughed.  “Sue, grab a mug, and pour some coffee.“

“I think I’ll cut the cake that you brought for my wake,” I teased.

Annie reached for the phone, only to have it ring before she picked it up.  “Hello.”

It was her boss. “Mr. Shaw, I was about to call you,” she began.

Suzanne and I listened to one side of the conversation, and it was obvious that he was offering my wife his condolences.  Annie began her explanation about the confusion, and then, told him that since things were more than a little crazy here at the moment,  she would be late in getting to the office.  Relieved that his sympathies weren’t needed [at least not today!], he told her that would indeed be fine.  She cradled the phone, only to have it ring again almost immediately.  While she answered the phone, the doorbell rang. 

I opened the door to find the shocked face of our preacher looking back at me.  I invited him inside.  The house certainly was a busy place for the next hour or two, with many of our friends and acquaintances stopping by with their regrets and oftentimes accompanied by food, as is often the case when someone in our town passes away.  It turned out to be quite a reunion of sorts, complete with food and coffee. 

Several pots later, the word had gotten around to most of the people in our circle of friends and family that I was alive and kicking. The phone had finally ceased to jangle.  Our house returned to normal.  Annie left for her office, and I settled back in my easy chair to finally read more of the newspaper than  “my” obituary.  I thought that it was certainly nice to have friends and family who cared, and responded in the way that I had just witnessed.  I thanked God for them.  I also asked Him to comfort the family of the deceased.  The doorbell once again rang. Looks like I will never get to read today’s paper!

I peeked outside to see what late-comer had arrived with sympathy for my sudden demise.  It was the florist!


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