Scene 7: Laughing at Death

I don't know what to do with death.

Back when I was a kid, I can only actually recall couple of funerals - Grandma Liddle and Grandma Pallier. I can't remember anything specific... Except for one thing.

Just before I went up to see my Grandma Liddle's body for the first time, I was observing the ritual that others were involved in - Basically, it was this: See the body, look solemn, tear up, cry into the shoulder or chest or whatever of the person beside you, move on.

I felt fairly certain I could swing that.

So, I went up to the body, looked solemn, tried to tear up, and then I laughed.

I thought I did cover it up pretty good. I made sure to bury my face in the arm of my Dad, hoping the suit would muffle any audible laughter and maybe it would look like sobbing if I jerked my shoulders just right.

Nailed it. I was pretty sure nobody noticed.

Then came the conversation.

My sister said something like this to me, "So, was it hard for you to see Grandma? Did you cry?"

I tried not to hesitate.

"Uh huh. I cried pretty hard."

"No you didn't. I was right there. You were laughing."

There I was, laughing. With Mom and Dad and Michelle and God and Baby Jesus and Grandma's ghost all staring at me, appalled. But that's what happened. And I can't change it.

In fact, I can't say with any degree of confidence that I've ever cried when I'm supposed to. It's always something stupid, like during "Homeward Bound" when Shadow comes limping from the horizon even though you were sure he was dead, or when during some rock documentary when the underdog finally gets a moment to shine. That's when I cry.

But I don't know what to do with death.

We were standing in the back doorway at the house, myself and Dad. There was a police officer in the house. My Dad had picked me up to take me over to the house when they had my sister try and call me over so that they could tell me, but I was not going to come at first, saying something like, "Come on, what could be so serious that I have to go over there? Did somebody die?"

So Dad picked me up, and there we were. I don't think the officer even finished telling me that she was gone, when suddenly my improv skills kicked in. I thought to myself, "I don't know if I'll cry, I don't know what I'll do, I don't even know how I'm supposed to react... Well don't just stand there man, go limp!"

And I did, and slowly hit the floor.

I was lucky, and I had been given permission to let my emotion come out any old way when I was joined on the floor by Dad and Michelle, the three of us embracing in a sort of huddle, looking at each other, realizing it had finally happened.

I think my tears came more from relief, and I was disgusted by myself for that.

I lived for a long time not knowing what was going to happen with Mom. I knew I wanted her happy, so I tried everything I could. Sometimes I could bring a smile to her face, but sometimes I couldn't, and I knew if she wasn't showing a sort of ferocity or emotion that those were the times I should worry the most... Sometimes, I wish she'd just die so at least there'd be and end to all this, is what I'd probably thought more than once.

Now I wanted that thought back. I wanted it back so bad... because, I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I sometimes think of my life as some sort of Truman Show, where everybody's watching me - kind of like this - and can hear my thoughts and maybe, just maybe, I caused this. If I hadn't of thought that, maybe the producers wouldn't have written it into the script.

But there we were, in our huddle, and I was crying just like I was supposed to. Maybe the reason I was crying was deplorable, but it's hard to say for sure. They could have been tears of happiness because she was finally free, and that would certainly be acceptable, but I can't really say that for sure.

April 6, 2000, she took her own life in the Alberta Hospital, and I was going to have to learn what to do with death.