Not my sick day…my son, Jack’s. He’s come down with what appears to be the flu…high fever, vomiting, diarrhea. He didn’t seem so bad this morning but has got progressively worse through the morning. Louise works on Mondays so we left Jack home alone, which is not as bad as it seems because I work 5 minutes away from the house.
Of course, I had to run some errands out at Ft Meade (15 minutes from the house) and while I was out Jack threw up a couple of times. He came downstairs a little while ago – he had the sensation that his loft bed was moving. He’s sleeping now…see:
No, it’s not the greatest picture in the world but I turned off the flash. Look, I may be running around taking pictures of my sick child but I’m not totally unsympathetic.
Often when faced with life’s everyday adventures my first thought is to take a picture. Probably for the better I usually don’t have a camera with me but it does explain why I have a lot of pictures of my wife eating. More often than not she’s not eating, but the times she is eating (e.g. family gatherings) I have a camera in hand.
(this will seem like a non sequitur but it all ties together, trust me)
My mom died in 2007. I flew out to CA before the funeral and the first thing I did on arrival was drop by the funeral home for a viewing, I guess it’s called. Chapel of the Chimes, in Hayward. They were very accommodating and took care of my unannounced visit (I called on the way from the airport) with kindness.
I was 19 when my dad died, and I was out of town and out of touch at the time, doing some camping with a friend. As my father’s oldest child (my parents were divorced) I was hit with a ton of decisions and preparations to make. My mom really carried the day but some things required me to take care of.
One thing I didn’t do was look at the body. The funeral was closed casket and the thought never occurred to me. After all, why look at a dead body?
For years after that I’d have the thought, “is he really dead?” Was my dad actually off partying with Elvis and Jimmy Hoffa, and this was some elaborate hoax? He died at home in his sleep, so maybe his brother and others were in on some conspiracy. Of course, he was dead and I knew that, but still the idea was there.
That’s why it was important for me to see my mom as soon as I got into town…I learned the answer to the question, “why look at a dead body?” I didn’t want to wonder, “hmmm, is mom secretly living in my sister’s back bedroom?”
When I arrived at Chapel of the Chimes before my visit I sat in the car for a moment and thought, “should I bring the camera in?” Lest you think my mind is totally warped, I wasn’t thinking of “Weekend at Bernie’s”. Death comes with life, and I have this urge to document life (never mind the glut of pictures awaiting sorting and tagging). I took my dogs’ ashes across country and hiked up Chilnualna Falls in Yosemite to scatter them…then took pictures of this gray cloud drifting downstream.
Ever repsectful, I waited until the topless female backpacker was done bathing upstream. I didn’t take her picture…I figured she wouldn’t appreciate me documenting her life.
Photographing a dead parent isn’t without precedent. I remember reading a story written by a photographer about the passing of her mother. She was with her mom when her mother died, then took a picture afterwards.
I’m not particularly talented with any of the arts, yet even I recognize the artistic difference between a mother laying serenely on a couch and a mother wrapped in a sheet on a gurney having been just rolled in from a refrigerator. Even if the room I was in was a nice room.
So I didn’t take a picture. My mom would have been furious with me if I’d taken one. Her hair wasn’t done (she died in a hospital) and she was dressed in a sheet. Then there was that whole “being dead” thing…don’t think she would cared for that much either. As it was, standing in the room with her body I kept hearing her say, “why are you standing around talking to my old dead body?”
And really, that wasn’t the last image I wanted of her. It may be stuck forever in my mind but I saw no reason to pass that picture along to my kids.
When I die (it’s not in my plans but it seems unavoidable) feel free to take all the pictures you want. In fact, I want to be stuffed and propped up in the family room. Give me a couple of glass eyes so I look like I’m awake. Maybe I could record some sayings that could come from a speaker on my body…you know, that wit and wisdom only dad can provide.
“When I was alive I didn’t watch nearly that much television.”
“Are you really going to go out dressed like that?”
“Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto”
“What’s for dinner? I can’t remember the last time I ate!”
“Can we drop by the cemetery later? I’m dying to visit.”
“Pull my finger. No, wait, don’t…it might come off.”
“Soylent Green is people!”
And if my daughter wants to go a date she has to take my body along for the ride.
“Put both hands where I can see them, mister!”
This wasn’t the post I had in mind when I started but somewhere along the way I lost the thread. Now my wife is home from work so it’s time for me to go back to work. I don’t want to but since all the problems with our software are now in my part of the code it’s probably a good idea. After all, no bucks, no Buck Rogers.