The week in March when 9 people in my zip code died and nobody wanted to hear about it
I deliver mail in a stretch of Cleveland where the routes run long and the houses are close together, and during one week in March I noticed the death notices piling up in my satchel faster than I could sort them. Nine people on my route passed in seven days, three of them on the same block, and every single family gave me that same tired look at the door like they hadn't slept since the call came. What got me was how normal the mail looked, bills and ads and a Red Lobster flyer going to a house where nobody was left to open it. I kept thinking about the obituaries I wasn't reading and the ones I probably walked right past, and how a mailbag will tell you things a phone never will. Has anyone else on a route or in a neighborhood ever felt the sheer weight of a week like that, where the paper itself starts to feel different in your hand?