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Grace Louisa Fraser. Six…I closed my eyes to stall the water. So young. Innocent. She hardly had time to get her feet wet in the cruel world of life. Her two younger siblings would never know her, not even remember her in a dozen years. I continued to read, stopping at Donations to the Canadian Cancer Society can be made in Grace’s name.
The parasite fed on the old, the young…the middle-aged. I glanced at the incomplete obituary on the bedside table. The few words at the end of Grace’s obituary provided strangers with the name of her Grim Reaper, the same who would deliver me. I reached for the looseleaf, sluggishly circled the crossed out ending to my obituary and wrote KEEP beside it. For Grace Louisa Fraser. Six.
Morris, Laurence Aiden—48, Dartmouth, has waited more than six months for this day. Still, he’s unsure if he is ready to make the journey to Heaven…or Hell. Something is missing, but he can’t fathom what. While he bides his time, he reads the obituaries, playing his game of Heaven or Hell.