2001
2002
2003
2004
12:50 p.m. - 08-13-2001
Children, Death and the thing I fear most.
"Let the bodies hit the floor..."
After spending almost all fuckin' day on the computer catching up with diaries, I took a break last night to catch the new episode of Six Feet Under on HBO. I really dig that show, but last night's episode was difficult to watch at the least. My hatred in god was solidified.
For those who haven't seen SFU, each episode begins with someone dying, of course, because the show is about a family run funeral home. Anyway, last night's episode begins from the POV of a baby in a crib. Soon as I saw that, my stomach knotted up and my throat constricted. The wife actually picked up her stuff and said, "I'm not watching this" and left. I don't know why but I continued to watch in the false hope that it wouldn't be the baby who dies, but maybe the mother or father. But no, the baby's POV starts to blur and the mobile above the crib gets closer and closer until the last thing seen before the screen whites out is the happy smiling face on one of the mobile panels. 3 weeks old and he dies. I was frozen, but I didn't cry...at least not yet.
One of the characters on the show, Federico Diaz, is the "reconstruction artist" for the funeral home. He also has a 4-year-old son and his wife is pregnant with their second. It's also his job to prepare the baby for viewing. I was doing ok until they showed 'Rico sitting by the embalming table just looking at the poor little thing. I know that it wasn't a real baby, but just the thought of a poor little 3-week old baby laying there dead. I lost it. Started crying and couldn't stop. The writers and producers of the show tried to equal out the sadness with moments of levity and such in a different storyline that was happening at the same time, but for me...it was little consolation.
No parent should ever have to outlive their child. Especially one who's only just begun his life. And it's times like this that christians will be like "Look to god for strength". To quote Gawain...FUCKABUNCHATHAT! Your god takes my child away from me, 3-weeks after he's born, and then you want me to turn to him for help? I'd rather lick an electric fence. What kind of a "loving, caring" diety uses fear to get and keep his followers. Yes, fear. Believe in me or you're going to hell and will suffer for eternity. I refuse to become one of the "flock" and follow the fuckin' herd. I'd rather spend eternity in hell.
A little over 10 years ago, back in my hometown, there was a fire in a trailer. For any newbies, I come from a small town in Missouri, trailers are a common occurrence there. Anyway, there was a fire in a trailer and there were some deaths. I knew the guy who lived there with his wife and children. He was a mechanic at the local Ford dealership and had worked on my car(s) quite a few times. Nice guy, quiet, did his job and worked hard. Did he die? No. Did he lose his wife? No. He lost all three of his kids. One of them was just an infant. As I sat in the church during the funeral, I couldn't tear my eyes off of the 3 little white caskets at the front of the church. The one in the middle just so...small. It almost didn't look real. The father looked like a walking corpse, pale, weak, in his own world. The minister stepped up to the podium and it was a good five minutes or so before he said anything, it was obvious he was struggling with his composure. During the silence all that could be heard was faint sobbing, muffled sniffs, and heavy breathing as people fought back tears. At that moment, I realized what a bastard god was.
I used to fear dying, I used to fear being embarassed in public, I used to fear lots of things. Now, I'm only afraid of one thing. Losing my children. Of course, every parent has that fear, it's a common bond we all have. I hope I never have to sit in that seat, zombie-like, staring at 2 small white caskets that used to be my children. After the show last night, I stood for about a ½ hour in my sons' room crying, just watching them sleep, feeling comfort in the fact that, at that moment...they were alright. And then I said a silent prayer (to who I don't know, I just prayed) for all parents out there that their futures are filled with kites, and sun and laughter...not small white caskets.
