Deeper Than Dead: Part 1 "99 Steps"

1

"I don't see a house over there," I said, while my eyes scanned the wooded area Henry had pointed toward.

Henry let loose a deep laugh that rattled around like it came from the chest of a two-pack-a-day smoker. "Well, it's hard to see from here. I live deeper than dead."

"Did you say you live deeper than dead?" I asked. That sounded odd to me.

Henry was an elderly man who was working in the small Shadow Grove Cemetery, clearing some weeds and brush. It was a private cemetery with only 19 headstones, the perimeter lined with masonry blocks about 3-feet high and a wrought iron gate that was never locked. Very few people in the area even knew it existed. Though the cemetery looked hundreds of years old, it was immaculately kept. It was on the State of Illinois list of recognized cemeteries, but no other information was provided.

Henry stopped working for a moment, setting his rake aside and leaning it against the block wall. Poe, my 3-month-old black lab, saw a squirrel scoot up a tree and began pulling at his leash to give chase. I pulled back.

"That's what I said, son" said Henry, mopping his weathered brow with a red handkerchief from his back pocket. His light blue work shirt was already soaked through with sweat. "When you have time, after the leaves change, come look me up. I'm here most Saturday mornings. I'll show you around the place."

Poe was sniffing around Henry's work boots, paused, then quickly walked over to me. It was barely 10:00 am, and already the summer sun was bearing down - unforgiving. The sky was a deep blue for as far as I could see, and I was forced to squint with the intensity of the sun.

"Well, I better get him back to the house before he gets the best of me," I said, pulling at Poe's leash.

"Nice to meet you," Henry replied, smiling as he picked up the rake and continued working in the mounting heat. He was hot and already tired, but he smiled thinking about something his father had always said. Any day above ground is a good day.

2

It was the first weekend in November, and Henry found himself nearly done digging a fresh grave at the Shadow Grove Cemetery. At his age, Henry couldn't work like he had as a young man at the piers in Chicago. He was always the hardest working guy on any crew he was on. Even now, he kept himself in good shape, and, thanks to some strong genes, he was still able to hand dig a grave, even if it took him a few days.

The sun had only been up for an hour, and looking at his watch, Henry knew he still had several hours before things had to be ready to go. He could have done this days or even weeks ago, but it had to be just right. He had to follow the way it was supposed to be done. Henry had been keeping track of the days for a long time, so the final hours were going to creep at glacier speed. It would be akin to a death by one thousand cuts. Henry had been looking forward to this day, despite his early morning chore of finishing the digging of a new grave at the cemetery.

3

Poe was a puppy when I first saw the house and property in April. An old family friend told me about it being for sale. My realtor told me about the cemetery, but it didn't bother me. I was a real mess back then, with my wife Amanda leaving me suddenly and taking our two girls, Madison and Amy, with her. She didn't even leave a note for me. I had to find out from her mother that she was gone and that the girls went with her. I spent a week in bed, worried to death about where they were and how I was supposed to pick up the pieces and move on. It was a living hell.