Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Post Ninety: Hey Dad.
My dad found a dead guy, again.
It was less than twelve months ago that my dad was running through some bushland near his home when he found a young guy hanging from a tree. A particularly harrowing experience for someone less seasoned to playing with corpses, and dad was left traumatised (and within reason).
In retrospect, I wish I had spent more time talking with him about this initial event. Seeing a father figure in a fragile state is a strange mind f*ck really, isn't it? I shirked my daughterly responsibilites, partly due to the removal I thought my rank as 'oddly admirable family mortician' gave me, and partly because I was reluctant to honestly open up and offer my support as an adult in the family.
Yesterday dad called me with the news that he'd found dead dude #2. Again whilst on an early morning run he'd come across a vehicle that appeared abandoned. On closer inspection, a male had propped a shotgun between his knees and decorated the roof with his brains. Yuck! And Sad!
This time, dad isn't ok. At a time in his life where he should be taking the time to smell the roses, drive slowly on sundays and other such associated activities, dad is trying to forget frantic moments and crushing anxieties. This time, I'm ready to step up. As I was supported as a child, I will duly support my father.
This whole thing has made me remember that death isn't something that necessarily happens in cold, sterile environments either. My environment is safe and cool (and I play spectacular music) so it's relatively unchallenging, but out in the wilderness with dead people....I'd be shattered.
Dad, I don't like blood either. I'm sorry you were the one. (twice)