cocasquidward

[cocasquidward]

The Man in the Blue Suit

Many years ago, my dear great-grandfather died when I was just a little young'un.

Back in the day, in a small town in another part of South Carolina where I grew up, the dead were brought home for visitation purposes instead of being laid to rest in a funeral home. The deceased's casket was always placed in the living room right in front of the couch.

Folks would often come into the home and grieve for the loss. It was much different than that of a funeral home and the way they hosted services for the dead back then.

It was just about dark one night, and the sun had just set. The sky fell black, and the air quickly grew cool. Thousands of stars came out to play as they twinkled like precious gemstones, glowing violently, far away in the ebony night sky. That's how I knew the day had finally ended.

I had been sitting there on our family couch, fiddling with my toys while witnessing many folks coming in and out for visitation and support throughout the night. All of a sudden, as an eerie presence shrouded around me, I began to feel a cold breeze come onto me, almost as if someone were standing before my person. This feeling was unlike any other I've ever felt before. It sure was a strange sensation, although I never felt scared.

I looked up. Standing in front of me was a tall man looking to be around 6'1" or possibly even 6'2". He was as tall as Mount Everest and as thin as a twig with a face as long as the Amazon River. He was dressed properly and formally for such an occasion: a beautiful blue suit that was of cerulean hue, complete with a top hat of the same shade. His tie was washed of the similar but instead striped with shimmering gold for another pop of color. I thought the combination of blue and gold looked absolutely mesmerizing together, and the idea of being paired with a beautiful blue suit and hat was like eye candy.

I couldn't take my eyes off of this tall man who towered over me.

He spoke to me in a soothing, deep, and husky tone of voice, "Young man..." He began to say. "Yes, sir!" I said, looking up at him. My gaze never left his as I looked him in his deep, dark eyes.

"I have lost my hat. It blew under the house, and I am much too old to go down and get it myself," he paused for a brief second before asking almost desperately, "Please, son, would you mind getting it for me?"

I was a good young lad who would never accept offers from strangers of any kind for any reason, but I sure felt bad for this old man who lost his hat. He looked to be around 70 years old at the time, so naturally I felt like I needed to help him.

I accepted his request. "Yes, sir. I'll get it for you!" I exclaimed to him as I rose up from my seat.

I made my way down the stairs and walked out the front entrance. The salty night air kissed my face the second I stepped outside. I got my little self to scoot up under the house. As I searched around the dirt-covered crevices, pushing and digging past the worms and residue, I spotted a blue hat that was of cerulean hue. It was the old man's hat! I gripped it in my tiny childish fingers, made sure it was crystal clear of any dust or dirt, and slid back out from under the shelter where I lived.

To my surprise, yet a little startled, the man was already standing there waiting for me ever so patiently.

I hand him his hat, and he says to me in that same tone of voice, "Thank you, young man..." He hung out his crinkled palm that was balled up into a tight, feeble fist. Releasing his fingers, a large silver dollar dropped in front of me and fell into my little hand. I felt like a kid in a candy store from how suddenly ecstatic I became.

I waltz back into my home, flipping the dollar coin in my fingers. My father quickly notices and turns to me, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned to the floor. He seemed quite concerned and lowered his voice, "Son, where did you get that money?" His tone was stern.

"An old man lost his hat and asked me if I'd get it for him, Papa, so I did. He gave me this dollar as a way to say 'thank you.'"

Papa was very cross now. "No, no, no!" He scolded as he wagged his finger at me, "You ain't taking nobody's money! Come on, Charlie, let's go look for him so you can return it to him." He rushed me back outside, where we searched far and wide for the man in the blue suit. We searched everywhere in our house, but oddly enough, the tall man was nowhere to be found.

I then asked Papa to ask my grandmother. She knew everybody in town, so maybe she knew this man, too. There she stood, over by the couch where my great-grandfather rests peacefully in his fresh wooden casket. Papa went over to her and told her about the man and how I got my silver dollar. She turns to me and asks, "Well, what did he look like, Charlie?" Almost halfheartedly.

I describe him just as I described him earlier to Papa, "He was around 6'1", maybe 6'2"... Very tall, real thin, long face..." I stopped to think about any more details that might help her. With that I finished, "beautiful blue suit and tie that had gold stripes..."

The woman's face turned paper white, paler than the moon that shone brightly that night. Her hand slapped onto her mouth with full force, covering it tighter than I've ever seen anybody do when they were in such shock. Everyone around us was puzzled by her sudden reaction, and the room quickly fell quiet. Mama broke the silence, "Mother, what's the matter? Are you alright?"

"I... I... I..." Grandmother seemed like she was in a trance, almost hypnotized as she trailed off. She, too, fell eerily quiet and distanced herself away from us, deciding to go about her business instead as if nothing had happened seconds earlier.

I must tell him sooner or later. She thought to herself, He needs to know the truth. I can't just leave my dear grandson hanging with unanswered questions like that...

I was overridden with confusion as I watched her walk off into another room and back out again 15 or so minutes later with a very large photo album in her arms. She asked me to sit beside her because she wanted to show me something very important. As she's showing us the old photos from the past, she asks me, "Charlie, can I ask you a question?"

I nod. "Yes, ma'am, grandma." She goes on to say, "Do you see that man in this picture?" As she points to an older photo of my great-grandfather standing gracefully next to a man who looked eerily familiar. He wore a blue suit infused with that of cerulean blue, same as the man who gave me the coin. The man in the photo was as tall as Mount Everest and as thin as a twig with a face as long as the Amazon River.

I flip the page with little hesitation, now sunken between my heart and stomach, the sensation slowly growing stronger. I gasped quietly to myself with a grim breath. There he was yet again, this time sitting beside my great-grandfather. They must have been very close friends back when Grandfather was still alive and well. This time I felt very sorry for this old man. He lost his best friend, and I can't even bring myself to imagine what that must feel like.

"There he is, Grandma! There he is! That's the man who gave me the dollar!" I exclaim to her.

Her eyes went wide. That same paper-white shade flushed back onto her face, her peachy complexion quickly draining itself of all its color. All that was left was a white, blank canvas of fear, worry, and forlorn. She softly demanded that I save the silver dollar I still held in my hand.

She hugs me. She hugs me tight and calmly caresses my upper back, holding me close to her.

"Charlie," she begins, "that there is ol' Mr. Jones. He came to say goodbye to your grandfather. He was buried in that suit and tie. You must never lose that dollar. Hold onto it. Do you understand?"

I was puzzled once more but nodded in agreement. Buried? No, that couldn't mean... Could it?

When it had the chance, that same pale color crept across my young complexion after she spoke the last words that would be sure to haunt me until I grew old and grey:

"He's been dead for 10 years, Charlie..."

Decades later, now myself at 67 years old, that's when I realized that he truly had been dead and came by only to pay his respects and give a final farewell to his best friend, my great-grandfather.

His spirit disappeared after I gave him his hat, and of course, once he was able to say his final goodbyes. After that day, I never saw the old man in the blue suit ever again.