Death Comes A Knockin', You Just Keep On Walkin'

So, I found out that my brother died this morning.  It was hilarious.

A while back my older brother, Schmott, decided to quit Facebook.  So he deleted his account.  This was just a few days before he and his family went on vacation to San Francisco. His wife and two sons are still on Facebook and they documented the trip by posting photos of the trip:  Alcatraz, a couple of beach shots, Ghirardelli Square, etc.

None of the photos that they posted had Schmott in them--well one may have, but his back was turned so you couldn't really tell.

His wife posted things like "on a trip with my boys" (which could be interpreted as sons, not necessarily sons and husband), but never mentioned Schmott by name.  In fact, Lady Buffington and I wondered aloud if Schmott had stayed home (or if, perhaps, he had died).

This morning at about 7:15 AM, as I was walking into work I got notification of a message. I opened it. It said:

Hi Wilson (names have been changed). Not sure if you remember me, but I was friends w/Schmott in high school. I didn't know who to ask about this and then I noticed you were friends w/my brother on here. I heard that Schmott passed away, but I couldn't find his obituary, so I wanted to confirm that with you. If so, I am really sorry for your loss. He was a great man and one of those friends I will always remember!

I laughed, because it wasn't true.  Was it?  WAS it?

So, I ran to my office and called Schmott.  It rang and rang and went to voicemail.   I left a message.  Then, I called my mom.  It rang and rang and went to voicemail.  Was she dead too?  WAS she?

Then I realized that I had just learned of my brother's death on Facebook.  And, as we all know, that is a crappy way to find out about things like that.  And, to add insult to injury, my mom had died at some point too.

Saddened, I started my day.  Waiting for the phone call that would confirm the tragic events of that morning.

Then, the phone rang.  Trembling, I answered, "hello?"

The voice of my deceased brother from the other end of the connection spoke in wavering tones, "Riiiiiiick, IIIIIIII aaaaaaam deaeaeaeaed"*

"Speak apparition," I replied.  He spoke. We exchanged pleasantries.  We hung up and went about our days--me at work; him, I assume, into the next life.


Rest in Peace Schmenneth Schmott Schmurdock





*I had the choice to write it deeeeeeead or deaaaaaaaad, I didn't like either so I went with deaeaeaeaeaeaed to indicate no change in the vowel sound as you draw it out.