THE FIRST CALL

                    From the words of a Mortician

There is a job not many know

Many sorrows we can never show

That involves just so many things

Of what the twisted fates may bring.

There is a happy season to be born

And as loves in your life are left to mourn

Comes the season to wither and fatefully die

Where the beginning of the end indeed draws nigh.

I saw my friend Jim, walking just the other day

There was something he really wanted to say

He greeted me, smiled, and tugged my sleeve

But he just turned away so quickly to leave.

I wish I had insisted and chased him a stride

He could not say any,  he had too much pride.

His eyes did not sparkle and he looked just so pale.

I turn now at night and wonder just why did he fail.

In the late night hours the death call came in

A  faltering sad voice of  some next of kin

I knew what it was as I stood up to answer

Was it a homicide, accident, some form of cancer?

   It was Jim's own son calling who lived so  far away

               He said he had many troubles until  his dying day,                      Telling the story of his hanging and details of this case.

 Soon he will be interred into his final resting place.

When I heard of this news I felt a cold chill

I cursed the Reaper for yet another friend to kill

Picturing a broken sad man hanging from the rafter

Who will never again imbibe life, love or laughter.

The FIRST CALL is the start of what was to follow

The family must plan while in grief they shall wallow

An appointment to meet and most details taken

Making plans for a man that shall never reawaken.

I then met the Coroner at the scene of Jim's death

On a clean white sheet as we noted no breath

After the rope was cut and he was lowered to the floor

His body was stiffened for he went through Death's door.

Jim was taken to the morgue then I headed for home

I left his remains there on the prep table all alone.

Crawling back to my bed on this crisp autumn night

Why in God's name did Jim give up and end his plight?

I should have seen the signs in my depressed fading friend

Could have deterred him from the planning of  his life to end

I wished I had made some time to invite him for some tea

The only help that is left to offer is of my trade professionally.

I know I will do my absolute best as to how it all should be

I will even put a smile on his face for everyone to see

Everything to be perfect, his suit, his shoes, his casket

By his feet is a token from me, a note in a flower basket.

It is a very deep and personal note between just him and I

An apology to him and  a very sad and personal goodbye.

Hiding it there to go unnoticed by mourners who attend

I'll remain in good with our Maker so to see him in the end.

Good Bye My Dear Friend.

We lose our friends and family, too.