The face of mortality
As a normal media saturated adult in America today, the face of death shouldn’t seem as shocking to me as it is. I am not desensitized to violence and though my neighborhood was far from upper middle class, I never witnessed any death there.
I remembered seeing the first dead man ever when I was about 13. He was my friend Milo’s father and he died of skin cancer. He didn’t look like he was dying to me… at the time the bald head and thin appearance didn’t seem odd. He still smiled and laughed and when he did eventually succumb to the ravages of cancer at the very young at of 35, the face that lied in the coffin was very similar to the one I had seen all the years before. He was gone, but to me it felt like he was gone on a fishing trip. The absence seemed temporary. I have no idea of the pain that his family felt in the following years. I can’t even imagine it.
I can’t imagine the pain of the woman I saw today, kneeling on the ground by her collapsed husband. Tim and I were leaving the airport this afternoon and just moments before boarding the shuttle, I heard a thud as a very large man hit the pavement next to us. Tim’s face registered confusion for only a moment and then he shot off to find help, when I turned back around a man had started CPR while the wife wailed and kissed her husbands head. I stood frozen, my eyes transfixed on his face. It went from pink to dark red to purple as the wife and the man tried to revive him.
As a military member I am fully trained in CPR. I know the procedures and my knowledge extends to all kind of battle field wound dressing. I tried to recall anything that would help, but I couldn’t think of anything at all. As his color changed, I felt like my heart was going to explode. I couldn’t speak or move. I have never felt so scared in my life. After 8 years of serving and 1 very close call with being sent to Iraq, I have never seen a man dying. I don’t know what happened to that man… the police showed up. We were directed to board the shuttle and we drove away. The last thing I saw was his large body lying motionless on the ground with a crowd hovering around him, and his dark blue face…
I remembered seeing the first dead man ever when I was about 13. He was my friend Milo’s father and he died of skin cancer. He didn’t look like he was dying to me… at the time the bald head and thin appearance didn’t seem odd. He still smiled and laughed and when he did eventually succumb to the ravages of cancer at the very young at of 35, the face that lied in the coffin was very similar to the one I had seen all the years before. He was gone, but to me it felt like he was gone on a fishing trip. The absence seemed temporary. I have no idea of the pain that his family felt in the following years. I can’t even imagine it.
I can’t imagine the pain of the woman I saw today, kneeling on the ground by her collapsed husband. Tim and I were leaving the airport this afternoon and just moments before boarding the shuttle, I heard a thud as a very large man hit the pavement next to us. Tim’s face registered confusion for only a moment and then he shot off to find help, when I turned back around a man had started CPR while the wife wailed and kissed her husbands head. I stood frozen, my eyes transfixed on his face. It went from pink to dark red to purple as the wife and the man tried to revive him.
As a military member I am fully trained in CPR. I know the procedures and my knowledge extends to all kind of battle field wound dressing. I tried to recall anything that would help, but I couldn’t think of anything at all. As his color changed, I felt like my heart was going to explode. I couldn’t speak or move. I have never felt so scared in my life. After 8 years of serving and 1 very close call with being sent to Iraq, I have never seen a man dying. I don’t know what happened to that man… the police showed up. We were directed to board the shuttle and we drove away. The last thing I saw was his large body lying motionless on the ground with a crowd hovering around him, and his dark blue face…
posted by saucybritches at
5/29/2005 03:10:00 PM
2 Comments:
Sad to say that I have seen two faces too many in that strange state, the in-between of living and then death---and it stays with you. Makes you hold your husband a little closer, love your friends a little more. It reminds us that we are dust.
Now on a funny note. When I was little and asked my mother where dead people went, she said "Heaven", to which I cried "I don't want to go to heaven, I want to go to the cemetary." I don't remember this myself, but mother is not inclined to lie!
gosh, what a moving and terrifying experience for everyone, your perspective is an interesting one. and so interesting to consider that there are so many perspectives to this one story. it's something that likely everyone who witnessed it or was involved will remember forever in their own way. the strangest experience i had with this was seeing one of the most dear friends of our family after having not seen her for years. her cancer had relapsed and we knew she was going to die. i ran into her and her husband at a restaurant in the city. it was completely out of context, they didn't even live in the area. it was a surreal coincidence but i got to say goodbye. i think i was the only one in our family who got that. i couldn't believe how far this version of this person was from the hearty vivacious person i knew for all my years. it was just an experience i will never forget, even though i want to remember her differently. that was also the first open casket funeral i had been to...
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