Keeper of the Reaper

By Joaquin Chavez

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“My name is Casey Lawrie. Take my hand.

I am the Grim Reaper. One of many, to be exact, I am officially an Agent of Afterlife Services™, and my badge number is 9189.

What I'm trying to say is, you're dead too.

Hate to see the youth die young. At least I think you're young, maybe your skincare routine was great before you croaked. My job is to lead people through Limbo. I am not allowed to disclose what the afterlife is like, but I will say the lines are just like the DMV.

Look, I get it, you're upset and freaked out right now, considering you have left your corporeal form. We got some time to kill, and I think I have just the story to calm you down before we leave Earth.​

I died young. Twenty-two, and I was a college student at North Carolina State. I was hit by a drunk driver coming down the road while I was crossing a street. And in that moment after I was run over, I met the dead man who would change my life. I talked to this Grim Reaper, who went by the name of James Bishop. He was everything people feared about death. He was stone-cold, dressed as if he worked at a graveyard, and he sounded like he smoked cigarettes since he was a little kid.

Mister Bishop was hoping to retire from guiding the wayward souls, and he asked me to take his place so he could rest those old bones. When I was alive, I didn't know what I wanted to do in life. I always had a knack for helping people, and I thought about guidance counseling and things like that. When Mister Bishop gave me his offer, I saw it as a chance to continue being a kind soul to everyone I meet. And I think it was a fine deal. I am able to help people realize that they should not be afraid of death. That's why I dressed differently from Mister Bishop; to anyone else, I'm just a punk kid.

There are some cases where people are surrounded by their family on their deathbed. Other times, they could be with their best friend. Most of the time, they are alone. I've given people many chances. They think they 'cheated me,' but I simply saw them as having more to fight for.

There are some scenarios where I cannot give second chances. I couldn't swap out a parachute while someone was skydiving. I wish I could've helped the poor folks who had a heart attack with nobody else to call for help. But for the one guy who died from slipping on a banana peel, I have to wonder if he was just really stupid or genuinely did not see that coming.

There is some beauty to see in this line of work. I had to face a case that almost brought me down. Something so heartbreaking, I wanted to turn in my badge.

I got called up to comfort a dying man in a hospital in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Frank Lawrie, my father. I didn't think I of all Reapers would have to bring a loved one to the great beyond.

It was my first time seeing him in years. The last time he ever saw me was at my own wake. Forever frustrated living with the fact that no parent should ever have to bury their child, but he did. When I got the news, I had considered asking a colleague to handle the case for me. I decided that this would be the true last time I could say goodbye to my dad.

The only people who can see me are the ones who have an appointment with me. So imagine the shock on my father’s face when I walked through the door. Hell, imagine the shock on my face seeing what was once a tall and strong man reduced to a gaunt skeleton.

We both froze looking at each other before I tried speaking up. Before I could even explain how all this was possible, he burst into tears. He thought he was dreaming. I approached him and gave an awkward hug. The first words I finally said to him were, ‘It’s going to be okay, Dad.’

I explained the situation, kind of like how I’m talking to you now. My mother had died when I was young, so it was just him and me for a while. That loneliness was reflected in the hospital room. While he was unable to truly wrap his head around the fact that I am literally the Grim Reaper, he was just so euphoric to finally see his only child again. To finally have closure. I learned he had stage four liver cancer and was holding on by just a thread. He was a trooper. After a while, he grabbed my hand gently and told me that he was ready to go. I tried asking if he had any unfinished business or loose ends, but he had wanted me to take him. To finally end all the pain and anguish he had suffered. Somberly, I helped him stand up and told him the thing I have been wanting to say for years.

‘I love you, Dad.’

So that’s my story. It’s not everyday I can tell it to people. My coworkers have heard every sob story on the planet.

…

I like you. I think I’ll give you a second chance at life. All I ask is that you find a loved one, a close friend, or whatever is left in your life, and you appreciate them. Because you might not be as lucky as me.

Back to the mortal plane you go.”