Joe Ramsey was a familiar sight , cycling around the neighbouring areas of Ramoe in N. Ireland. With a cheery wave and a jaunty air he was the peoples favourite person first thing in the morning. Being the village postman, Joe took his position as Communications Officer very seriously indeed, and in forty years service, rain, hail or snow, Joe had been missing only one time – when he lost his beloved wife Edith to cancer some years past. The light had gone out of his life and he didn’t believe he could function anymore. But the good people of Ramoe requested his return and Edith would not have wanted him to let them down. So Joe donned his well worn uniform once more.

 

That was why, on this particular Tuesday morning, the residents of Crombie Avenue were puzzled. Joe was late – her was never late. Was he sick? Did he have an accident? Should they call the hospitals? He wasn’t just their postman, he was their friend and they worried about him. There was no need, around the corner came Joe, fifteen minutes late, on his trusty steed. His customers breathed a collective sigh of relief and returned to their morning rituals.

 

Joe swung his sack jauntily over his shoulder and whistled merrily. He was in a particularly happy mood this morning.

 

“ This is my last delivery, only three letters and I hang up my mailbag for good. I’ll miss my good friends but there is a place waiting for me, has been for a while.”

 

Three letters but three very, very important letters Letters to make or break a persons life and Joe had to deliver them. Joe sighed, knowing the contents of the missives, knowing the news bad or otherwise that he was bringing to lifetime friends. They lay at the bottom of his sack, two sparkling, bright, white envelopes sending out rays of love and hope but the other writhed and hissed like a black serpent, coiling and uncoiling with no apparent shape and emitting noxious fumes from Joe’s bag.

 

The first delivery was to old Mrs Carruthers in No. 36, it would lift her spirits no end. She had been so lonely since her husband died, a part of her gone with him, and then her only son had married , emigrated to Australia with a lovely wife, and now they were the proud parents of a bonny baby boy. She had seen photos and videos, had spoken to them on the phone, couldn’t be doing with those new-fangled internet thingies! Now they were coming home. Derek, her son , having found a new home and a new job here, they would be with her again. Joe smiled as he sensed the joy that would flood the old lady’s heart.

 

Joe’s thoughts then drifted to young Mrs Hughes at No. 26, his next visit. Widowed at the early age of thirty, she was the mother of two beautiful little girls. Joe, her husband was killed , an accident at work, at the tender age of thirty two and Jane missed him terribly.. A devoted couple, the loss was devastating to everyone. The sparkling letter in Joe’s bag promised hope and a new life for Jane and the children. An invitation to a party, where, Joe knew, she would meet a man who would become her second husband, who would love and cherish the girls as if they were his own. Joe’s heart glowed with happiness. He was nearly home. Just one more letter. At the thought his spirits sank, as he felt the evil thing writhing and squirming in his sack. He gazed heavenwards and sighed.

“Is this absolutely necessary?” he pleaded. But he knew it had to be done. With dragging steps he approached the steps of No. 54, the home of Mr and Mrs Roberts. Their son Thomas was serving in Iraq, had been for almost three years. He was due home soon, his tour completed. It was not going to happen. Tommy and three of his friends had been shot and killed two days before by insurgent rebels. The news had filtered through to his Mom and Dad about the tragedy but no names had been released until now. They had lived in limbo for 48 hours, now their intolerable grief would start.

Joe wept for them but he knew Tommy was happy and he swore that by some means, with a little help, he would deliver that message. His duty was done here now. His last post round completed. He deserved a rest and Edith had promised to wait for him.

 

“Joe, it’s time. Your place is ready. Your friends and family are waiting and a new friend Tommy thanks you for your concern for his parents. You will meet him soon. Take my hand ,Dear. We have to go”

Joe turned towards the brightness, towards a shining light emitting rays of love, peace and contentment and gazed into his beloved Ediths’ eyes.

The news spread sadly through the village that day. Joe Ramsey had been found lying peacefully at home, having suffered a massive heart attack. The delivery of the three letters was never explained.