Honour Guard
The morning was early but I was late. That’s probably why I didn’t pay attention to the cars in the care home parking lot. I would surely have noticed the distinctive black mortuary vehicle. Whooshing automatic doors proclaimed my entrance, startling the woman who stood just inside, dressed in business black, her hands resting on the handle of an empty stretcher. “Good morning” stuck in my throat, turning into a solemn nod of greeting. Moments later, at the piano in the still-dark lounge, my fingers found ‘It Is Well With My Soul’. Tears ambushed me. The suddenness of death had surprised a family this morning. I heard elevator doors close with efficient finality upon the stretcher and its custodian, whisking both to their appointed destination. Incongruous laughter bubbled above my softly played hymn as various staff arrived for their shifts, exclaiming over one another’s Hallowe'en attire. Above the laughter, a quiet loudspeaker announcement extended an ...