Frankie is in the hospital. Irene is dead. But John puts their morning papers on their doors just the same.
Did no one tell John? Perhaps he puts them on the door as a tribute…Perhaps he thinks they will come back and seek their morning paper.
Or maybe, he just doesn't know what to do with the extra papers. The papers were paid for, they have to go somewhere.
It sort of shook me up, seeing Irene’s paper there, on her door, waiting to be read. Irene is NOT gonna get today’s news. In fact, maybe she’s in it. She is it, if she is famous. But most of us pass away, and sometimes even the neighbors don’t know about it.
One morning in Oxnard I greeting my neighbor with a casual “How are you” and got a reply “Not bad, under the circumstances.”
“Oh,” I said, “What circumstances?”
“My husband passed away last Thursday.”
I was shocked. I lived next door and didn't know he had died.
We come noisily and depart quietly.
It is Monday morning and I looked around the dining room. It seemed that everyone had wild un combed hair, myself included. I guess Mondays are “bad hair days”.
At least we are here to appreciate them.
5 comments:
Very beautifully and thoughtfully written, Dad. K
yes my neighbor died last week and she still get mail and her paper everyday.
Sandra
Well chuck I woke up with the worst case of pillow head you can imagine, checked the paper's obit's and I guess I'm still here!
Sorry to hear about your friends.
Very interesting Chuck. The people who send those papers should be notified. Helen
Well Chuck, another beautifully thought out entry, I really do enjoy you, bad hair too! Hugs, Terry x
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