Mendy’s reputation as being a precise and conscientious grave digger soon spread. Deservedly so. He was extremely conscientious and careful about the dimensions of each grave and would make certain to always remove the rocks. For Mendy it was more than just a job. It was a mission. Most importantly his limp was never a problem. He became the only gravedigger in town.
Demand for his services occasionally went in an unusual direction. There was a group that frequently needed an anonymous body disposed of. No questions asked. The fee was good and Mendy always felt that everyone deserved a proper burial. Besides, there was plenty of room in the Ste. Sophie cemetery and these individuals could be interred anywhere on the grounds – without a marker. Mendy also always said a short prayer which he felt was proper and appropriate. One night he received a call from this private client. They were on the way with a “special” burial. Even though it was raining heavily Mendy could not refuse. He had to be available as these clients were known to look unkindly on people who said no to them. Unfortunately, that’s when the second accident to his leg would occur.
He began to dig the grave but the ground was slippery and with the rain the hole kept filling with mud. His bad foot made it difficult but he needed to work quickly – they were on their way. Then it happened. Mendy slipped, lost his footing, and the pickaxe he was using came done on his foot. The same foot he had injured when digging old Mrs. Levine’s grave. This time it certainly wasn’t her fault.
A long black car pulled up at the site and out came two very large men who looked as if their square heads were placed directly on their shoulders. They removed a rolled-up carpet from the trunk, brought it to the open hole, threw it in and walked away without comment. That’s just the way it always was. The rain continued and the hole kept filling with water and mud. Mendy couldn’t keep up and his foot was now extremely painful. He made the decision to just fill it the best he could. No, it wasn’t up to his usual standards but he hoped that the deceased would understand. Mendy did say a brief prayer. This time perhaps a bit briefer than usual. Then he limped away. His gait even more awkward.
The pain in his foot wouldn’t go away and now he could barely stand on it. There was no way he could even use a shove and so Mendy’s career as a grave digger came to an end – except for a short time later when he dug one last grave. For years thereafter he would keep this one covered with wood and a tarp. You see that’s where Mendy the “G” was buried. With a marker. His neighbours are Moe Sager ….. and old Mrs. Levine.
