Brief Synopsis: Jordan covers the graveyard shift at
the morgue as victims from a fiery plane crash are brought in; Woody finds the
flight manifest and learns that Devan was on the doomed flight.
There have been a lot of comings and goings in the morgue.
Some have left us baffled (I’m still wondering what happened to Peter), others
have left sad, but a little relieved (Elaine), but I don’t think any have
touched us as much as Devan’s passing. I know many didn’t like her (though I
didn’t share the same feelings—since the day we met her I’ve always been a fan
of Devan’s) but a sadder death I don’t think there could have been. Despite
Devan’s sometimes annoying presence, the morgue staff was heart broken at the
news of her death.
Woody: Poor Woody. He received the manifest with
the passengers on it. He’s looking it over and he recognizes a name—Devan
Maguire. Probably not a moment he wants to remember, but definitely one he’ll
never forget.
He tried to hold it together. He did a pretty decent job
until the end. Of course he had the case of the missing boy to help occupy his
attention, which was probably a blessing in disguise. The scene with the young
sick boy was heart stopping. They both needed each other. They were both
grieving over losing someone and able to share that misery with each other. I
don’t think Woody will share his grief with anyone else, nor will he let anyone
in to comfort him. So his moment with the boy was truly precious. Woody’s
human. He can grieve and he can cry.
The end was beautiful. After Garret read the poem Woody
took and moment then tosses a bouquet of flowers in the pit—his good bye to
Devan.
Jordan: Jordan starts the episode off relaxing,
getting ready to enjoy her evening off when she gets a call from Devan. She and
Devan have a bit of an argument and they hang up frustrated with each other.
Jordan drags herself into the morgue—only to walk into the
calm before the storm. When she calls Devan’s cell and Garret picks up it hits
her what has happened. She feels so guilty over her last conversation with
Devan. She’s not a mean person—but she feels like it.
Jordan take responsibility for contacting Devan’s mother.
It’s a bittersweet scene between them. Devan mother tells Jordan how much Devan
loved working in the morgue and how much she talked of Jordan and about what a
great friend Jordan was. I think this news had to have helped Jordan come to
terms with her relationship with Devan.
Nigel, Bug, Lily and Sydney: They all deal with the
death of Devan differently. Nigel and Bug do everything they can at the site.
Even when there’s nothing left to find they’re still looking. Sydney remembers
how Devan teased him—it’s not so annoying to him now as it once was. He starts
to get testy and snap at Jordan as the episode goes on and it sinks in what a
sad tragedy this was.
Lily dealt with all the grieving family members in her
typical self confident way. She took charge and was caring at the same time.
She has become (in many ways) the backbone of the morgue staff. She’s always
the one to keep everyone in check. She’s there to console when needed, comfort
when called for, speak out when others won’t.
Garret: He remains strong. He’s just as affected,
but he knows that the others will follow his example. They have a job to do and
the time for grieving will come later.
The poem he read for Devan at the end was a true Garret
moment. He helped put words to Devan’s death and gave Nigel, Bug and Woody some
closure, and at the same time told (without telling) that he was there for them
and he was grieving just as much as they were.
Devan—a pushy, driven, but good hearted lady—we’ll never
forget you. You’re short stay at the Boston morgue had a profound effect on
everyone. You’ll rest in our memories. Good bye Devan Maguire.
4 ½ out of 5 Dead Bodies. An eloquent remembrance to Devan.
For the adapted version Garret spoke see the quotes section
for this episode.
The Poem
"A PARABLE OF IMMORTALITY" by Henry Van
Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads
her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an
object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch, until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come together. Someone at
my side says aloud, "There she goes." Goes where? Gone from my sight. That is
all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar, and just as able to bear
her load of living freight to the place of destination as she was when she left
my side. Her diminished size is in me, not in her, and just at the moment when
we say, "There she goes," other eyes are watching her coming, and other voices
are ready to take up the glad shout "Here she comes!"
POEM
