The Gift

There's not much time left.

I'm stressed today. Your typical bad-day fare: a fight with the spouse, late on bills… We're having trouble making the house payment, and foreclosure might be imminent.

I've got a headache that won't quit. I'm at work now, and it feels like it's going to be a long day.

But of course, that doesn't mean I don't have to do my job, and do it well.

I open my little black book, trailing my finger down the crisp white page, and find her name.

Nancy.

I proceed to tick off the goals that have already been accomplished with black check marks from my black ink pen. Flowers, check. Music, check. Limousine, check.

Placing my little black book and pen back in my coat pocket, I smooth my hair and walk into the chapel to check on the progress.

Dappled sunlight streams through the windows, falling in radiant pools across the church pews, baptismal and ethereal. I hear the usual sounds of skirts ruffling and feet scuffling upon the carpets. The scent of roses carries headily in the air, creating an intoxicating perfume.

As always, I feel changed after entering the chapel. A feeling of peace gradually settles over me. My headache begins to subside.

Seeing that everything is in order, I return quietly to the back.

As usual, I am arrested by the sight of Nancy. She is truly a beautiful woman.

Humming "How Great Thou Art" under my breath, I proceed to select the correct brushes and make-up for her. I turn on the curling iron.

After some moments, I pause to check my work.

I’m pleased to see that Nancy’s make-up is flawless. Her face looks like a soft, open flower, delicate pink blush upon her cheeks and a deep rose hue tastefully emboldening her lips. Her softly curling hair delicately frames her angelic face in perfect ringlets. Her white dress is immaculate, with fine, hand stitched lace and satin rosettes. Her delicate pearl earrings fit perfectly in her earlobes.

But it is her smile that is truly arresting. A pure, radiant smile that can only come from true inner joy and contentment. It gives me pause, and I turn away to wipe a small tear from my eye.

This is why I truly love my work.

I leave her and walk further into the back, nodding to Sylvia, my co-worker.

"She's ready," I say.

Sylvia looks up at me from behind her glasses and stops typing. "I want to see her," she breathes eagerly. She lifts herself from her desk and follows me as a few other co-workers do the same.

When Sylvia sees Nancy, she turns away, her eyes shimmering with tears. Then she looks back at me.

"She looks so beautiful," she says with genuine approval.

And now, I know it is time.

***

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch.

It is Nancy's daughter Linda who approaches me afterwards.

Tears glisten within her eyes. She clasps my hands in hers.

"I can't tell you how beautiful my mother looked for the service,” Linda says. “I've never seen her more radiant, more happy-looking. She and my father were married for forty years... She always told me that she wasn't afraid to die, because then she would finally be reunited with my dad in heaven. But you already knew that, I already told you, I know. It's just that… I've never seen my mother look so good, and it's all because of you. Thank you so much for that."

And Linda embraces me warmly.

***

I'm leaving for the day when Sylvia stops me.

"Linda came back after everyone left the gravesite,” Sylvia says. “She said she wanted you to have this." She hands me a plain, white envelope.

"What is it?" I ask.

Sylvia looks strangely at me. "I didn't open it. It's for you."

“Thank you, Sylvia. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I decide to visit the chapel before I leave. A heart-wrenching, vibes rendition of “Nearer My God to Thee” plays softly upon the speakers.

I take out my little black book, check my list of names for tomorrow of people I will help to prepare.

There have been so many names in my little black book. Young and old… But I remember every single one of them.

And I can’t say that I know for sure what awaits us after death, but I know that I always wanted to help people who couldn't help themselves anymore. We all have to die, sadly, but maybe through love and tenderness can we help each other in the process. This is what makes us human.

I look down at the envelope from Nancy's daughter waiting in my hands. I open it carefully.

And my breath catches in my chest.

It's a check for 20,000 dollars.

I stare helplessly up at the ceiling, a lone tear sliding from my eye.

I know that I will return the money tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter now.

I shut my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper, to whomever is listening.