The Will to Die

by Joe Pulizzi

  “Yes, the shirt is fine,” I said, handing her the suit.

  “No, you hold the suit,” she said as she inserted her thumb and index finger into the scissors. She cut the back of the suit jacket, creating two parts. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  We walked over to the casket and there he was. Looking as dignified as ever. Not a day over sixty. Sam and the makeup team did a fantastic job. When Dad wasn’t smiling or frowning, he had a resting smirk, almost like he knew something you didn’t. He was smirking at me now. What do you know that I don’t, Dad?

  Sam used the casket crank to lift Dad to his highest setting. She took off his shoes. “You okay?” she said.

  “Fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t.

  She undid Dad’s belt, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants.

  “Rigor has passed by now, so he shouldn’t be too rigid,” Sam said. “If you can lift up his legs, I’ll pull the pants off and grab the other pair of slacks.”

  I did as she told me. I grabbed my father’s legs between his calf and ankle and lifted them up to my chest. Then Sam tugged his pants toward me with a back and forth motion until they were past his bottom. I moved my hands as she pulled the pants past me so she could get them off his feet. I could smell a hint of Sam’s perfume as she passed.

  Sam set down one pair of pants and grabbed the other. “We’ll just do the same thing in reverse.”

  She balled the pants up like I used to do with my running tights in high school cross-country and began to insert Dad’s feet. As she did, I looked down at my father’s thin, hairy legs. On the back side was some staining. A bit of blotching.

  “What’s that?” I asked Sam.

  “What’s what?”

  “Below his legs. The blotching.”

  Sam tilted her head. “You can put his legs down for a second.” She grabbed a pair of plastic gloves and put them on. Then she lifted up Dad’s right leg while I stepped aside.

  She bent her head down, coming within three inches of the back of his leg. “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “I would have seen it before. It’s covering a large area.”

  Sam lowered the leg and moved to the left. Then she pulled up Dad’s jacket, shirt, and undershirt. “Yep, there’s some spotting here as well.”

  “Some kind of rash?” I asked.

  “If the blotches occurred after death, which I’m assuming they did, it’s not going to be like poison ivy or bacteria. It would have had to come from the inside out.”

  She took the gloves off inside out and threw them in the biowaste disposal. Then she grabbed her iPhone. “Lift his legs up by his feet so I can get some pictures of this.” She took pictures of the backs of his legs and the side of his back.

  “What are you going to do with those?”

  “I know a guy that works in pathology at the Cleveland Clinic. I’d like to send some blood and tissue samples to him, as well as these images. He owes me a favor anyway.”

  “Why? McGinty already did the autopsy.”

  “True. But your Dad told me he didn’t trust him. Not sure why. Maybe he missed something at one point. Sandusky is a small town, after all. I’m sure McGinty isn’t an all-star coroner or anything. Regardless, the blotching is concerning.”

  We took the next fifteen minutes getting Dad dressed in Mom’s favorite suit.

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it,” I said.

  “Let’s keep the blotching we found our little secret for now. At least until I find out some more information.”

  Chapter 14 – The Breakfast Place

  I stopped in the kitchen to grab another coffee, then peeked my head in Janet’s office. She was watering a small tree that sat on the floor behind her desk. Gorgeous red flowers. The tree was missing a couple of branches, but not so much you noticed.

  “Good morning. Need anything from me?” I asked.

  “Not a thing, dear,” she said. “Just get your game face on. Half the city of Sandusky will be here in a few hours.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said heading back to Dad’s office.

  I unlocked the closet and randomly chose one of Dad’s notebooks. I pulled it out and carefully marked the spot, then sat down in Dad’s desk chair. I flipped to October 23rd, 1983.

  The call came in around 2 this morning. House pickup. Dispatch from EMS told me to bring two guys to the scene. Two bodies. I was given no additional information.

  I called Jack and met him at the funeral home at 2:30. We each took a wagon.

  Jack beat me there. He was already out of his car waiting by the gurney. I pulled up behind his wagon.

  The house was a duplex, and apparently the two bodies were in the upper section of the house. Perfect news for any funeral director. As per procedure, Jack and I went to take a look before bringing up the gurneys.

  The EMT was waiting at the door. I recognized him immediately. Bryan Newton from the downtown office.

  I asked, “Why didn’t you take them to the morgue?”

  Bryan responded, “I wanted to leave this one for you.” Never good news.

  Bryan led us up the stairs and through a short hallway, which opened into a living area. No bodies yet. We continued to follow him to the bedroom.

  Jack said, “Ten bucks they’re in the bathroom.”

  I said nothing.

  Bryan stopped short of the bedroom but moved aside so we could enter.

  All the lights were on. There were two sheets covering the bed, but the form underneath looked like a trapped elephant. More realistically maybe a baby hippo. Whatever it was, the sheet was raised about three and a half feet toward the ceiling.

  I looked back to Bryan. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

  Bryan was holding back laughter but said nothing.

  I walked over to the left side of the bed. Jack took the right.

  “Well, shall we?” I asked Jack.

  We both took an end and peeled back the sheet. There was a large naked man. Probably 225. Maybe sixty-five or seventy. Bald, but with hair everywhere else. His face was blue, and his eyes were open. Straddling him was a woman, approximately the same age. Also naked. Also large, probably two hundred.

  From the looks of it, they were mid-intercourse.

  Bryan was now laughing uncontrollably in the corner. Apparently, our faces gave him all the ammunition he needed.

  “Did they die at the same time?” I asked Bryan.

  He answered. “I can’t be sure without a few more tests, but I think she died first and then he continued on, and then had a heart attack or stroke.”

  “How long?” I asked Bryan.

  “I think this happened about three or four hours ago. Their son apparently still lives with them. He came home from the bar around one thirty and found them. He called us and then went back to the bar.”

  “Game plan?” I asked Jack.

  Jack responded, “I think we move them both over to the left first. Together. Then we pull her off him and onto her back.”

  Worked like a charm and she slid right off, and we dropped her on her side to the right of the man.

  After that, it was a relatively normal night, where Jack and I carried two two-hundred-plus-pound naked individuals down twelve steps and then another six steps from the porch to the wagon.

  I PICKED UP MY HEAD and saw Jack’s towering figure take the majority of the space where the door should be.

  “You look quite mesmerized with whatever you’re reading.”

  “Yeah, just some of Dad’s old writings. Did you know he kept a diary? He was talking about you in this one from about thirty years ago.”

  “I saw him writing a lot but never knew he actually kept a diary. I’m surprised he never said anything.”

  “You know Dad. He always talked business. Never anything personal.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Did you need something?”

  “Just letting you know that I picked up two bodies this morning and they’re with Sam. Everything went according to plan. Anyway
, I’m starving so I’m heading around the corner for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast sounds great. Do you mind some company?” I asked.

  “Not at all. Let’s ditch this pop stand.”

  We walked out the front door and headed west. Down the sidewalk, we passed what little rush hour traffic existed in Sandusky and took a right into Carol’s Café. Carol’s has been open since before I was born. My dad and the funeral home have pretty much kept Carol’s in business since that time.

  We walked through the door and Carol was sitting behind the counter at the front. She saw me immediately.

  “William, it’s so good to see you. I already desperately miss your father.”

  “Thanks, Carol. Last time I asked about you, Dad said you were retired.”

  “Don’t I look retired?” she said, smiling. “Your father was right. I did retire. For a whole day. The most boring day of my life. So I decided to spend the rest of my retirement here. Then when I die, my son can just push me out the front door, and Jack here can collect me.” She gasped. “Oh, William, I’m sorry. That’s not an appropriate thing to say with your father just passing.”

  “It’s all good, Carol. You know there is nothing inappropriate you can say to a funeral director. And as long as you let us handle your arrangements when you pass, you can say whatever you want.”

  She chuckled. “Of course you’ll get my business. What? Do you think I’m going to the Traynor home? Something’s not right about that family.”

  “No comment,” I said. “Anyway, you know a good place we could go to eat? Jack and I came in looking for directions.”

  Carol came from behind the counter and slapped the side of my arm. “Why, you stinker. I practically raised you when you were the size of a turnip. You know we got the best breakfast special in the city.” She grabbed one menu and led us to the side booth.

  Jack and I sat down, and she placed the menu in front of me.

  “What, no menu for me, darlin’?” Jack said.

  “Oh, you’re going to start on me too?” Carol said. She looked at me. “He’s ordered the same damn thing for thirty years. Not once has he tried one of our specials. What a boring man he is.” Carol gave a half smile to Jack and headed to grab the coffeepot from behind the counter.

  She came back and poured us two cups of coffee. “Okay, sweetie, do you know what you’d like or need more time?

  “I’d love the special of the day,” I said, smiling at Jack.

  “You little shit,” Jack said.

  “I always knew you were smarter than most,” Carol replied. “And Mr. Jack?”

  Jack smirked at Carol.

  “The usual it is,” she said and walked back toward the kitchen.

  “God, I spent so much time here as a kid,” I said. “Remember Carmela who worked the main counter? I used to steal her Life Savers whenever they’d let me back there.”

  “She put them out on purpose for you,” Jack said. “She just adored you, kid.”

  “I always wondered why she left them out like that.” I paused and took a long drink of coffee. “I’ve been wanting to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind, Jack.”

  “Shoot, kid.”

  “Well, first, kind of a shitty position for you to be in right now with the funeral home. That you have to wait on me to make a decision seems unfair.”

  “Son, I don’t love the business necessarily, but I love what I do. I love being around people that aren’t my wife. So I’d like to keep that way of life going. If you want to take a shot at it, no skin off my back. I just hope you keep me around.”

  “Jack, I promise if I decide to take the business, I’ll force you to stay.”

  “That’s fine, son.” Jack chuckled. “But enough talk about that.” Carol came by to top off our coffees.

  “Got it. My main question was about Dad. Janet said his behavior changed last year, about the time when the business turned worse than worse. Do you know if he was sick? Was there something going on that you noticed or knew about?”

  Jack’s disposition changed. I caught something in his eye for the briefest of moments. But then it was gone. “The financial situation was no secret. How could it be? He let go of Shelly and Rich and a few others. He sold one of the vans, the cemetery. Told us he couldn’t give us raises. But I don’t know how much I noticed last year. The fall was like walking down a hill over the last five years. It wasn’t a cliff.” Jack took a drink. “We were all hoping and praying that things would flatline, no pun intended.”

  Carol came by and put the special in front of me and two eggs over easy with link sausage for Jack. She turned to me and said, “If you need anything else, honey, just let me know,” ignoring Jack. Then she walked back behind the counter.

  “Geez, Jack,” I said. “She either hates you or she’s in love with you. I think it’s the latter.”

  “Oh, my boy, you have no idea. If I wasn’t married all these years, I would have given her a good one a time or two. But I’ve never cheated once on my wife and never will. I’ve tried to kill her, but never cheated,” Jack said, concentrating on cutting his sausage links into dimes.

  The special was a scramble. Green and red peppers, onions, corned beef, bacon, and eggs. I was halfway through and already felt like ordering seconds.

  “Now that you mention it,” Jack said, “the one thing that was noticeable was Abe and Dan stopped getting together as much last year.”

  “My Uncle Dan?” I asked.

  “The same. You know what made me think of it? When he came to meet you at the funeral home the day Abe passed. I mean, I’ve seen him around and we’ve always been friendly, but it was odd to see him back at the funeral home again.”

  “They had some kind of a falling-out?”

  “That I can’t speculate on. All I do know is that Dan was around all the time, and Abe and he got together for breakfast and such, then they didn’t.”

  “When was this?” I asked.

  “Sometime early last year, I suppose. About a year ago then, maybe a bit more.”

  Jack and I finished breakfast, and I said goodbye to Carol while Jack just looked at her and smiled. Then we started back to the funeral home.

  Chapter 15 – Visitation Prep

  As we walked back in, Jack headed for the visitation area while I headed to Dad’s office. Sam was waiting for me with her purse in hand.

  “Going somewhere?” I asked.

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me into Dad’s office, shutting the door. She whispered, “I’m going to take these blood and tissue samples of your father to Cleveland myself. I’ll be back in a few hours. I don’t trust a courier with it, and my contact at the Clinic said he can get to it today.”

  “You’re going to miss the visitation. Why do you need to leave now?”

  “I looked at your dad’s posthumous blotching again. Something’s not right, and it’s grating on me. I want to get this checked out as soon as possible. Plus, my contact has some time to start on it today.”

  “You sound nervous.”

  “No, not nervous. But I want someone to double-check this. Your father would do the same thing.”

  “Do you have a copy of the autopsy to give to your guy?”

  “Yes. It’s on my phone. I’ll be back by early afternoon, probably right at the start of visitation.”

  “Got it. Text me if you need anything.”

  Sam made her way down the hall.

  We were just a few hours from the start of visitation, and I figured Denise was already here. I found her at the coffee machine. She heard me coming and turned around. We said nothing, just approached each other and hugged.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Fine, I guess,” Denise said. “Oddly enough, I’m thinking about Mom today. Remember her visitation? Dad was running all over, making sure everything was just right, acting like it was someone else who died. I don’t think he ever got over her leaving us so soon.”

  “I know he didn’t,” I
said. “I mean, he was the same man. The same hard worker. The same guy that could walk into a restaurant and go table to table talking to everyone, but he lost the spring in his step. I thought he would get it back at some point, but from what I’m finding out, I don’t think he ever did.”

  “He talked to her every day. Did you know that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes I would stay with Dad, and every night I would hear him talking in his bedroom. I didn’t know if he was on the phone or praying or what. But I found he would sit at his desk and face Mom’s closet, and talk to her like she was there. It was both extremely cute and deeply sad at the same time.” She paused. “He would talk to her like she was standing right there. One time, it sounded like she was trying on clothes, and he was telling her what looked good and not.”

  “Did you ever talk to him about it?”

  “Not once. People deal with life in their own ways. We all do. I think Dad had to do that to survive. And who knows? Maybe she was there in spirit. Regardless, he probably needed the therapy.”

  I walked over to the Keurig, popped in a light roast, pushed down the top, and selected a large cup of coffee. “When this is finished, why don’t we head over to the visitation room and do a quick run-through?”

  “Okay,” Denise said.

  We walked over together and stopped at the open doorway leading into the visitation room. This was visitation room one, which today opened into visitation room two as well. For normal funerals, just one room was needed. For this one, we probably didn’t have enough space even with removing the soft barrier between the rooms.

  Dad was laid out in the back of the room two surrounded by at least fifty flower arrangements. Dad would hate it. He always preferred charitable donations instead of flowers. We included this in the obituary, but no matter what you do, people still like to send flowers. The same people that walk by each arrangement at the visitation to see who spent the most on a display perhaps.

  As Denise and I walked in, we split at the back of the room. I went left and she went right, with about seventy-five to a hundred chairs in the middle. Tables against two walls were covered with individual pictures, photo albums, and keepsakes. I caught one picture of Dad holding Jess as a baby that made me tear up a little. Jack and Denise did a nice job setting up the room.