Meet Joe Black

His name was John (ummmmm names changed to protect people ok) and he was a policeman. One night, his wife, Jane, called me... she was a transplant from Denmark and had an accent you wouldn't believe.
*ring ring ring* went the phone ...
"Hello"
"Sandye, this is Jane and I can't find John."
"What do you mean you can't find John? It's 12:30am."
"We got home from night classes and had something to eat and go to bed and I just wake up now and John is not here in bed with me." she said.
"ummmm, did you check the rest of the house to see if he was in another room?"
"No, I will look now." and she hung up.
... and I returned to the Land of Winkin, Blinkin and Nod ... snore snore snore.
*ring ring ring*... oh for crying out loud!
"Sandye, this is Jane. I check the house and still no find my John."
"Maybe he got called in to work at the station and didn't want to wake you. Check to see if there is a note from him on the table or something."
"I go look see" and she hung up.
count the sheep ... 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ...
*ring ring ring*
"Sandye, no note from my John"
"OK, look in his closet and see if any of his uniforms are gone."
"I go see" and again she hung up.
By this time, I am fully awake ... which was good because hey, is that the phone ringing?
"Sandye, I count his uniforms and they are all there."
"Jane, don't hang up the phone, just go see if his service revolver is in it's normal place."
lalalalaa waiting for Jane to return ... it is now well after 1:30am.
"Yes, his gun is there. I don't know what to do, I can't find my John."
"Jane, you just don't lose a husband in the middle of the night. Stay calm so you don't wake the kids and I will be right over."
Arriving at Jane and John's home a little after 2am ... Jane came flying out the front door, looking for all the world like a little girl lost. I noticed the bags of trash by the end of the walkway ... ahhhh, trash pick-up in the morning ... my soon-to-be ex-husband stood there talking to her and I decided to trace John's route ... heading for the gate of the stockade fence, which was open ... I entered the backyard area ... I could barely make out the swing set in the dim shadows cast by the light on the deck. Then I noticed the over-turned white wicker chair and to my way of thinking, if it was laying there like that, then it must be broken, and if it is broken, why is it not out with the other trash for pick-up? As I bent to grasp the chair to upright it, I saw what I thought was a log ... and I got closer ... John? As I touched his body, I felt, more then heard, a voice saying, "Come along now, John, someone is here, you are not alone and it is time to go." If "Death" can be described as a person, then this was it. I was not frightened because I sensed a kindness about this presence ... and as I kneeled next to John's still warm body, I thought about how he had just stopped by my house the day before and was chattering happily about the vacation he and Jane and the kids had just returned from, Disney World ... and now John was being taken away. He was a mere 32 years old when he had the heart attack ... and to this day, I still feel the hair on my arms stand up as I remember ... "Joe Black" walked past me, so close I could feel him ... and in his infinite kindness took John away. This is a true story.