There are only two times when it is appropriate to discuss the souls of others. One involves a séance with a group of your closest friends. The other is for entertainment purposes to be shared with a group of blogging strangers.
The soul that I wish to discuss is Barbara. Barbara was a figure in the Tucson community and a major philanthropist. She was also my neighbor.
The summer we moved into our house was the summer after I graduated from high school and got fired from my first real job. With all that extra time on my hands, I was in charge of unpacking and rearranging our house. During that time, I also got to meet and greet our new neighbors.
Barbara and her husband Richard greeted us with a basket of goodies, including a rotisserie chicken, a bottle of Yellow Tail, and vanilla candles. It was nice to see warm and friendly people welcome us with a gentle hand of friendship. Unfortunately, that hand of friendship extended further than it should have.
The small windows in our bathroom overlook into our neighbor’s yard, exposing nothing but brick. However, when looked at a certain angle, some windows at the front of our house, exposed not only their entire front yard, but Barbara’s dirty secrets as well.
Every morning at eight, Richard would leave to work. And every morning at a quarter past, a strange man in a dark midnight-blue Saturn would pull up to the drive way, go inside and about an hour or so later, he’d leave. Nothing bizarre about a mid-day visit. Unless of course, it turns out to be a mid-day sex snack in the sack. There they were, Mr. and Mrs. Get-It-On-Like-There’s-No-Tomorrow. An adulterous couple so into each other, that I had no choice but to watch them bang like bunnies.
Barbara continued her affair throughout the entire summer and then some. It wasn’t until I attended a neighborhood barbeque, that I figured out that the strange man was Richard’s cousin. It was nice to put a name to the gyrating ass I had seen all summer, but it was sad to know that Richard had a cheating wife and a back-stabbing cousin.
If I was smart and heartless, I would’ve black-mailed Barbara and lived off her and her husband’s income for a while. Unfortunately, I no longer have that option.
This past weekend, Barbara’s daughter called and informed us that Barbara had died. Barbara and Richard were vacationing in Mexico and driving down a dirt road, when all of a sudden, the truck flipped, and crushed them both. They were soon flown back to Tucson to the UMC hospital, both in critical condition. Sadly though, Barbara did not pull through.
Because we were her closest neighbors, Barbara’s daughter has asked our family if we would be willing to do a small reading at the funeral. And because I’m the writer of the family, the job has been bestowed upon me. How am I supposed to write the eulogy of a cheating wife, mother, and neighbor? Should I tell Richard about what I know of his wife, or should I let his soul go to the grave, thinking he had a faithful wife and loyal cousin?
Is it wrong to speak ill of the dead, when the dead did ill acts while they were alive? Or no? The thing that haunts me the most is I may have been the last person Barbara spoke to. When she and Richard left last Wednesday evening, she called me and asked if I would be so kind as to collect the mail and newspapers and hold them until they returned from Mexico.
And if that wasn’t strange enough, last night at around one in the morning, I saw a strange car pull up to my neighbor’s house and drive around the mailbox. Someone got out and approached the mailbox. I didn’t get a good look at the person, cuz of the tree in front of my window, but I did sense that something wasnt right.
The next morning I went to go "collect" the mail for my neighbors and when I opened the mailbox, I was shocked. On the inside of the mailbox Richard and Barbara had placed label stickers of their names on either side. Barbara's name was missing. Should I be worried for my soul right about now, or not?
The soul that I wish to discuss is Barbara. Barbara was a figure in the Tucson community and a major philanthropist. She was also my neighbor.
The summer we moved into our house was the summer after I graduated from high school and got fired from my first real job. With all that extra time on my hands, I was in charge of unpacking and rearranging our house. During that time, I also got to meet and greet our new neighbors.
Barbara and her husband Richard greeted us with a basket of goodies, including a rotisserie chicken, a bottle of Yellow Tail, and vanilla candles. It was nice to see warm and friendly people welcome us with a gentle hand of friendship. Unfortunately, that hand of friendship extended further than it should have.
The small windows in our bathroom overlook into our neighbor’s yard, exposing nothing but brick. However, when looked at a certain angle, some windows at the front of our house, exposed not only their entire front yard, but Barbara’s dirty secrets as well.
Every morning at eight, Richard would leave to work. And every morning at a quarter past, a strange man in a dark midnight-blue Saturn would pull up to the drive way, go inside and about an hour or so later, he’d leave. Nothing bizarre about a mid-day visit. Unless of course, it turns out to be a mid-day sex snack in the sack. There they were, Mr. and Mrs. Get-It-On-Like-There’s-No-Tomorrow. An adulterous couple so into each other, that I had no choice but to watch them bang like bunnies.
Barbara continued her affair throughout the entire summer and then some. It wasn’t until I attended a neighborhood barbeque, that I figured out that the strange man was Richard’s cousin. It was nice to put a name to the gyrating ass I had seen all summer, but it was sad to know that Richard had a cheating wife and a back-stabbing cousin.
If I was smart and heartless, I would’ve black-mailed Barbara and lived off her and her husband’s income for a while. Unfortunately, I no longer have that option.
This past weekend, Barbara’s daughter called and informed us that Barbara had died. Barbara and Richard were vacationing in Mexico and driving down a dirt road, when all of a sudden, the truck flipped, and crushed them both. They were soon flown back to Tucson to the UMC hospital, both in critical condition. Sadly though, Barbara did not pull through.
Because we were her closest neighbors, Barbara’s daughter has asked our family if we would be willing to do a small reading at the funeral. And because I’m the writer of the family, the job has been bestowed upon me. How am I supposed to write the eulogy of a cheating wife, mother, and neighbor? Should I tell Richard about what I know of his wife, or should I let his soul go to the grave, thinking he had a faithful wife and loyal cousin?
Is it wrong to speak ill of the dead, when the dead did ill acts while they were alive? Or no? The thing that haunts me the most is I may have been the last person Barbara spoke to. When she and Richard left last Wednesday evening, she called me and asked if I would be so kind as to collect the mail and newspapers and hold them until they returned from Mexico.
And if that wasn’t strange enough, last night at around one in the morning, I saw a strange car pull up to my neighbor’s house and drive around the mailbox. Someone got out and approached the mailbox. I didn’t get a good look at the person, cuz of the tree in front of my window, but I did sense that something wasnt right.
The next morning I went to go "collect" the mail for my neighbors and when I opened the mailbox, I was shocked. On the inside of the mailbox Richard and Barbara had placed label stickers of their names on either side. Barbara's name was missing. Should I be worried for my soul right about now, or not?
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