Meet the Directors

EDITOR'S NOTE:

This chapter and many that follow run Sam Standard's and Grace Gatekeeper's versions of the funeral side by side. This helps emphasize that the two funerals are happening simultaneously. It also allows us to see at-a-glance what Sam and Grace are doing differently at any given moment. However, I recommend that in each chapter you first read Sam's story, which appears on the left-hand pages, all the way through then read Grace's. You will also notice that I've highlighted small sections of text here and there throughout the two storylines. These are the key moments that differentiate Sam's funeral direction from Grace's. Feel free to add your own highlighting, underlining, and notes in the margins.

SAM STANDARD — the experienced, likeable funeral service veteran

When Sam Standard's phone played its harp music at 4:30 a.m. — his kids assumed the ringtone was ironic, but Sam actually liked it — he was already awake. A loud clap of thunder had jolted him from a dream about fishing. He'd just hooked a lake trout — a big one, because it had nearly yanked the fishing rod from his hands. Sam rarely found free time for his favorite hobby. Now, awake and reaching for his phone, he felt a pang of disappointment that he didn't even get to land a dream trout.

On the other end of the line, Sam's boss, John Knight, told him that an elderly woman with cancer had died at her daughter's home. "I've arranged to pick her up 5:30," said John. "I'll swing by and get you on the way."

"Sure thing," said Sam. "See you soon."

Sam, John Knight's nephew, had worked for Knight & Day Funeral Home for his entire career in funeral service. In fact, his thirty-year anniversary date was next month. As he dressed, Sam found himself wondering absently how many death calls he'd taken in three decades. Let's see ... a hundred times a year, on average ... so, more than 3,000, almost certainly. That was a lot of dead people — and also a lot of families he'd felt privileged to help through their worst days. The feeling was mutual; many of them asked for him by name whenever someone they loved died.

Sam's wife, Becky, had already started a pot of coffee by the time he got to the kitchen. "Ahhhh ...," he said, inhaling deeply. "Liquid energy! Thanks, honey."

With a start, Sam realized that if his thirtieth anniversary with Knight & Day was coming up soon, that meant his thirtieth wedding anniversary was fast-approaching, too. He and Becky had been married at St. Paul's Lutheran — the same church they still attended most Sundays — soon after he finished mortuary school. What was the thirtieth anniversary gift again? Diamonds? Becky, he knew, would rather have a trip to Diamond Head on Oahu. Unfortunately, neither was probably in the cards. Maybe they could spend a weekend in Colorado's Rocky Mountains, not far from their home. Diamond Lake Trail near Nederland was beautiful ...

"Day shift today?" Sam asked Becky. As an ICU nurse, she sometimes worked erratic hours, too, though rarely more than forty hours a week. She also understood death and the call to help people.

"Yep," said Becky. "Then I'm headed to the grocery store. Cameron and Lucy will be here tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh, right," said Sam. Cameron was their son, twenty-five years old and — finally — gainfully employed. He and his girlfriend, Lucy, would be visiting for the weekend. Sam hoped he'd be able to spend some time with them. "What about Jess?"

Jess was their daughter, a free-spirited philosophy major who'd quit college to "decide who she wanted to be." Meanwhile, she waitressed and shared a house in Denver with a motley crew of millennials.

"I didn't hear back from her," said Becky. "Maybe we'll see her; maybe we won't."

Sam kissed Becky good-bye and made his way to the front door, where he would watch for John Knight to pull up in the funeral home van. But on the way, he stopped for a moment to really look at the family photo gallery in the hallway, which he usually walked right by without noticing.

There was Cameron as a toddler, then in his baseball uniform, and later, rock-climbing. There was Jess after she'd lost her front teeth and, in high school, picking beans at the community garden. There were Sam and Becky on their wedding day. There were the four of them at Disney World — the one big trip he could remember taking as a family. There were Sam's parents at their fiftieth anniversary party — his father now dead and his mother alone in a senior high-rise.

Sam's mother was the same age as Carol Williams, it occurred to him. He really should find time to call her today, maybe even surprise her by bringing her lunch.

Sam heard the thrum of the funeral home van's engine in the driveway and stepped out into the dawning light to join John Knight. It was time to meet the Williams family and care for Carol Williams.

GRACE GATEKEEPER — the young, enthusiastic shaker-upper

Grace Gatekeeper may have been the go-go-go type when she was awake, but she slept like, well, the dead. It took three different alarms to get her up on time for work every morning. Fortunately, before she'd gone to bed the night before, she'd docked her cell phone in the speaker/alarm clock on her nightstand and turned the volume on high. So John Knight's 4:30 a.m. phone call not only blasted her out of bed, it also brought her roommate, Jason, running into her room in fear that something must be wrong.

"It's OK," she told Jason after hanging up with Mr. Knight. "Just a death call. Go back to bed."

Jason clapped his hands to his eyes in exasperation and left Grace's room. She knew Jason didn't "get" her choice of career. He wasn't the only one. Most of her twenty-something friends thought she was crazy.

"I am crazy," she mumbled to herself as she fished in her closet for something to wear. Dark dress slacks were suitable for removals. Maybe that dark top with the subtle dot pattern. Grace always wanted to convey respect, but she also liked a bit of energy in her outfits.

"Why am I doing this again?" she asked her cat, Winston, who still snoozed on her pillow. In response, her mind instantly conjured her mother.

After ten years of treatment and relapses, Grace's mom had finally succumbed to breast cancer when Grace was a junior in high school. And what do high-school juniors have to focus on (besides clothes, music, and dating)? Careers. Colleges. Before her mom died, Grace had no idea what she wanted to do. But after, Grace found herself oddly drawn to the rituals of the visitation, the ceremony, the committal service, and all the other funeral parts and pieces. Plus, the funeral home staff was so present to...