Grim Reaper

After thousands of encounters, it gets easier but the gift giving never does. Standing in the corner of the room is Grimley, dressed in a silver cloak with the hood drawn over his face. The satchel by his side is colluded with gifts. Each of them boxed in silver wrapping and sealed with a white bow. The bag is heavy beyond human strength and weighs a different amount with each visit. 

The lights are dim but the observation machines whir with beeps and the monitors shine with electronic tracers. This time, the room is filled with a small number of people, but the emotions are combustible. A junior resident places a stethoscope against Logan’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. His eyes lock onto the monitor, as the numbers drop and the traces flatten. “Not long now.”

Logan sleeps peacefully, despite the bloodied bedsheets and medical hardware drilled into his body. His head is secured by a brace, and it squishes his features. Logan breathes his last breath, and a plume of white smoke expels from underneath. His spirit forces itself, almost climbing out of his body.

“This way,” Grimley extends his gloved hand.

Logan's awe-struck eyes stare in disbelief but he remains mostly composed. Every encounter is different, some are theatrical and others transition with a calm demeanor.

“I didn’t make it, did I?” Logan asks.

“My name is Grimley, I am a Grim Reaper. I’m sorry to tell you this, Logan, this is the end.”

“But I thought I still had time left, there was so much more I wanted to do,” Logan says, looking back. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Grimley reaches inside the satchel and chooses a gift at random. Albeit heavy, the box is portable with two hands. He presents it to Logan, who checks the label, Corin. 

“I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“The gift is for Corin. He is the one who crashed into you. I’ll guide you to do the honors.”

In the corner of the room, Corin stares at the hospital bed with dazed eyes. His hands lay in his lap, atop jittering legs. The sight of him makes Logan's chest burn. He proceeds to lay the gift into Corin’s hands and the weight drags him forward. 

“This is all my fault. I killed him and now I’ll be sentenced to jail. I wish I could have stopped this from happening. If I had just slowed down,” Corin wipes the tears from his eyes.

Logan crouches down and listens to the plea.

“I’ll be done for manslaughter at the very least. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. Never would I have tried to kill a man, especially not so young.” He grabs his chest and clutches onto the ache from inside. “The pain is too much.”

The remorse is authentic. Behind the driver's seat is a person that made a genuine mistake. Logan sucks in his lip and contemplates his words. “I forgive you.”

Corin releases his chest and the tears fall slower this time. He musters the strength to stand and leaves the hospital room.

“You alleviated his grief with forgiveness,” Grimley says. “The weight of his gift is lighter now.”

“But - Can they hear me?” Logan asks.

“No but that does not minimize the power of forgiveness. Come and collect your next box.”

Logan stands tall. “No, I don’t want to.”

“You must.”

“Why?” Logan demands. “If I don’t hand out those stupid boxes, nobody will feel the pain of my loss. They can all live without grief.”

Grimley shakes his head. “That is not how this works. Grief is a part of death, and it is your duty to help everybody live with their burden before you move on.”

The next box is a hundred times heavier than the first. Unable to lift it with one hand, Grimley drags the box along the floor. The label reads Bethany. Logan takes one look and throws his hands in the air. “You can keep that gift! I’m not handing it out. Do you hear me? Not happening, not today and not ever.”

“There is nothing you can do, nothing will stop the pain.”

Logan kneels down and pulls the ribbon. It begins to unravel, when Grimley flattens his hand. “You can’t open it.”

“If grief must be felt, then I would rather absorb it myself.”

“This is the last act you will ever do, Logan. Give the gift to Bethany and help her heal from this. It is a beautiful act.”

“What is so beautiful about giving my mother the gift of grief?” Logan asks, through gritted teeth.

“You can help her cope.”

Bethany cries into a tissue, from the bedside. Her face is as pale as the sheets and eyes murky with pain. She fixates on the body, which is now clammy.

Logan is filled with dread, knowing what must be done. He attempts to lift the box, but it is magnetized to the floor. “Little help?” He turns to Grimley, who ignores the requests.

Logan uses the weight of his body to push the box across the floor. He shovels himself underneath and presses it along the bed. The gift scrapes up the metal railing and thuds onto the hospital bed. It sinks into the sheets, until it almost drags to the other side. Logan forces the gift and it falls onto Bethany’s lap. Immediately, she wails with agony. Her vision blurs and she is about to faint. She falls backwards, when Logan leaps into place. Shoulder to shoulder, he keeps his mother upright. He now carries the weight of Bethany and the gift. He drives his feet into the ground and stops her from falling over. He grunts against the heaviness. His hands shake, as he holds his knees. 

“It’s going to be alright, mum. I’m still here but I need you to stand. Please stand up,” Logan pleads.

After a short while, Bethany manages to stand. She sways on the spot, and Logan guides her towards a seat.

“How could I do that?” Logan asks.

“You helped your mother with her burden. Onto your next gift,” Grimley says.

“How many more are left?”

“Two.”

Logan burrows a frown but accepts the next box. It requires two hands to hold but does not weigh as much as the others. It is dedicated to Henry. With a puzzled frown, Logan patrols the room. The only person left is the doctor, who scribbles notes in a folder and sniffles back a tear. His name badge reads, Dr Henry Hickson.

“The doctor?”

Grimley nods. “He is a junior resident; this is one of his first deaths.”

Logan offers the present to the doctor. He bats away the tears, unable to see what he is documenting. Henry holds his breath, as he fights against the pain. 

“Bethany, please know that I tried my best to save your son. Our team did everything possible,” he says.

“Thank you for trying to save me,” Logan says.

Dr Hickson takes a tissue for himself and pushes through the tears. He returns to documenting.

The last box presents itself in the satchel. The white label makes Logan’s stomach churn. Probably from the uncertainty of who the grief is for. The name reads, Jester. He searches the room, but everybody is carrying the weight of their burdens. From the doorframe, he searches the sterile hospital corridor. Nurses, doctors and patients navigate at their own pace. They carry about their daily chores, unbeknownst to the grief that fills room 213. 

“Is this a mistake?” Logan asks.

Grimley stands beside him, with the gift in hand, it glistens silver beneath the fluorescent lights. “Wait and see.”

Human traffic moves about the room, as the body is bagged and removed. The grief boxes are carried out of hospital bed 213 and the room seems lighter. Any attempts at small talk are shunned by Grimley’s half-empty replies.

A cart squeaks into the room, filled with cleaning supplies, cloths, gloves, sanitizers and tissues. Behind it is a janitor, dressed in a green uniform. He rests against the cart and it rolls to a halt. A name badge is pinned to his top. Jester. He scans the room from the blood on the floor and wet bedsheets.

“Gone too soon,” Jester says, as he reaches for the cleaning solution. He works on the bed first, scrubbing it until the plastic mattress is near-new.

“Why does a janitor carry grief for me? We’re strangers, he shouldn’t have to bear such a burden.”

“Your death affects so many people, some you never knew,” Grimley replies.

Logan gulps down the thought. With a hand on Jester's arm, he thinks of what to say. “Please know that I appreciate you cleaning my room. Make it warm and tidy for the next person. I hope they never realize what happened here.”

“Well done, Logan.”

Grimley offers his hand. After a moment’s though, Logan follows the Grim Reaper into whatever follows next.