I should have never gone to Mr. Jaggs' house. 

I wouldn't have made the horrible discovery of finding him lying behind the shed in his backyard, deader than a doornail.

Ever since, I see his grey, lifeless face every time I close my eyes and it haunts my sleep at night. 

This happened two days ago.  Monday is his funeral. 

Mr. Jaggs was 89 years old.  He would have been ninety next Thursday, Thanksgiving Day.  He didn't quite make it.  Guess his number was up.  I just hope he died quick and didn't suffer is all I gotta say ...

I was collecting the money for my newspaper route, which I do every Saturday without fail.  I knew Mr. Jaggs was a widower; his wife, Ethelda, died over 20 years ago and he lived alone.  He enjoyed good health: never drank, never smoked, but he was a meat-and-potatoes man and it was in the past year when I discovered that Mr. Jaggs was slowing down.  He wasn't nearly as quick as he used to be and it bothered him.

I knocked on Mr. Jaggs' door.  I thought he was home: his Cadillac sat in the driveway.  I rapped loudly; Mr. Jaggs was stone-cold deaf.  He couldn't hear anything above a whisper so whenever people talked with him, they had to practically shout at him.  I felt foolish; it always felt like I was yelling at my neighbor.

I told him I was here to collect for the paper.  No answer.  I tried a second time.  Waited.  No answer again.  I tried a third time.  A fourth.  Still nothing.  I was wondering if he was outside; Mr. Jaggs loved to putter around in his yard, taking in the fall colors and getting rid of trash and weeds and stuff.  That was when I discovered him lying by the shed in his backyard. 

I thought he had fallen.  My heart started racing as I rushed to his side.  I shook him, called out his name.  No response.  Tried a second time.  Nothing.  I left his side and called the ambulance and told the paramedics about my neighbor and how I had discovered him lying on the ground, not moving. 

While I waited for the ambulance, that was when I discovered that he was dead.  He was cold as ice.  My heart sank and I nearly threw up, especially when I saw his eyes were open.  His blue eyes were rolled back into their sockets, showing only the whites.  It was rather gross.

He reminded me of a zombie and it freaked me out, big time.

When the paramedics arrived, I started bawling like a baby as I related my story to them.  They checked him, even tried CPR and zapped him with the portable defibrillator, but nothing seemed to work.  Yet they didn't give up in their efforts to try to revive the old man. 

I continued to cry. 

The paramedics soon had Mr. Jaggs loaded up on the stretcher and wheeled him quickly to the ambulance; the doors were then shut tighter than a drum and after getting back in, the paramedics (and the ambulance) took off, screaming down the road to the nearest hospital, only a few minutes away from our neighborhood.

I said a quick prayer to God, hoping deep inside that somehow Mr. Jaggs would be okay, but somehow, I knew he wasn't.  He appeared quite dead.  I didn't think he would be coming back.

I might go to the funeral, but then again, I might not.  Mom and dad said it was okay if I didn't go, but they said I should, as a sign of respect.  After all, we were not only neighbors: he was a friend; he was sorta like my second grandpa.  He and I did many things together over the years, including fishing, hiking, going on nature walks in the woods behind our house, hunting for deer and rabbit, and just shooting the breeze, talking about whatever first popped into our heads. 

Mr. Jaggs was an old man to most people, but he was very nice and I liked him a lot.

I guess I am going to go to the funeral: it's the least I can do for Mr. Jaggs.  That way I can say my final goodbye and wish him well in his new home up in Heaven.  I wouldn't want to carry a basketfull of guilt and not have the chance to say farewell.  That would be awful!

Well, I am going to shower, eat some lunch, and get ready before we go.  Just pray for me, but pray for Mr. Jaggs' family: they are the ones who really could use the prayers: after all, they just lost their father a few short days ago.