As a connoisseur of fine television (as well as some particularly spectacular trash) one of my favourite TV shows is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And (as I’ve said before) I believe that its creator Joss Whedon is freakishly talented and an eccentric risk-taker of epic proportions.
I’m not sure I have favourite episodes of the show, rather I have favourite moments – because there are so many throughout its eight seasons. But a memorable episode for me was The Body, in which Buffy, our superhero who saves many a damsel, dude and demon in distress, arrives home to find her mother (Joyce) dead of natural causes.
Whedon shot the entire episode without any background music or a soundtrack of any kind. I read in an interview that his intention was to not offer audiences any of the usual ‘comforts’.
Although it is the later scene involving former-demon Anya’s blunt but innocent confusion over death and its wastefulness* that always had me in hysterics-of-the-bad kind; the part that always hit home was one of the earlier scenes. After Buffy has found her mother and called paramedics, she opens the back door of her house. The sounds coming from neighbouring houses, including children playing, is in stark contrast to the shocked silence of her own house.
When I first saw it I was reminded of my grandmother’s death. I recall accompanying my mother to the funeral director’s office to make the decisions-you-don’t-want-to-make when it struck me: the world around us was still turning. People were going about their everyday business – laughing, talking, bitching and so forth, while my own family suffered in silence.
When I later saw the Buffy episode, I was immediately reminded of the isolation and aloneness that comes with death and devastation. Although it impacts directly and even indirectly on a whole range of people, many MANY others continue to live and breathe in ignorance, without a care in the world. As they must.
My own father died last night. Peacefully. Thank god. It had been close for a few days. On Sunday he started gasping for breath and my mother, my brother and I searched each other’s eyes for comfort as my father struggled. At the time we were sitting in dad’s palliative care room with the door open to allow some fresh air to sneak into the stuffy room.The place was full of visitors. At that very moment families were crowded around outside tables in the courtyard. As we sat clasping my father’s hands in an attempt to eradicate his pain and comfort him into whatever came next a little girl’s voice drifted in from outside.
She was a cutie. I’d seen her in the corridors earlier. Clad in bright pink, her long dark curly hair bounced about as she frolicked. In the courtyard she’d found a small fern tree which housed her height perfectly. “Look at me and my umbrella,” she shouted repeatedly to gain the attention of neighbouring adults. Despite my father’s fading presence on the bed in front of me in the silent room, I was drawn to the life outside. And I was hopeful and sad at the same time.
*From Buffy’s Anya:
But I don’t understand! I don’t understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she’s, there’s just a body, and I don’t understand why she just can’t get back in it and not be dead anymore! It’s stupid! It’s mortal and stupid! And, and Xander’s crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever, and she’ll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.
More on my dad: his dementia and his borrowed heart.
October 24, 2011
sorry about your father.
October 24, 2011
Thanks J.
October 24, 2011
Deb – I think this is the most beautifully written blog of yours that I have read to date. Your writings enabled me to visualise what you were seeing and to feel what you were feeling (well..to a point). It brought me to tears. I want you to know that the world did stop for me, knowing that your father has passed on. I cried sad tears for his family and happy tears for him – that he is now at peace. He was your dad, your brothers dad, your mum’s husband and a friend and relative to many others. I’ve seen pictures of him – so in some distant way I knew him. I love the quote from Buffy’s Anya – beautiful. Take good care of yourself – big hugs from me to you, your mum and family. xxx
October 25, 2011
Thanks Min. Didn’t want to write anything TOO OTT, but didn’t want to not address issue.
October 25, 2011
My condolences on losing your father. I lost mine a number of years ago and I know exactly what Anya’s speech means. Here’s a big virtual hug.
October 25, 2011
Virtual hugs and support most appreciated! Thanks Gillian.
October 25, 2011
Such a beautiful heartfelt post! Big hugs to you xx
October 25, 2011
Thanks Donna.
October 25, 2011
What an amazing blog! You have such an amazing way with words. Thank you for sharing in what is obviously a very tough time xx
October 25, 2011
Thanks so much Lizzy. It’s not a subject I want to make light of, but wasn’t in the headspace to get TOO deep & meaningful….
Deb
October 25, 2011
I’m so sorry for your loss, Deb. Your dad went through a lot – and do did you and your mom. I’m glad you have this space to write about it. It is very hard – thank you for sharing.
October 26, 2011
Julia, thanks as always for your comments. I have to say the morning we got up (after it happened) I sat writing the blog post for the first hour or so of the day and it really did help.
Deb
October 25, 2011
Many hugs and love to you..I’m so sorry for ur loss..I lost my grandmother nearly a year ago and know the silence u feel..u have a beautiful way with words and I enjoy reading ur blog immensely..condolences to you and your family.xx
October 26, 2011
Thanks for the feedback on my blog Emma – I’ve been a bit all over the place over the past 6-7 weeks as dad’s condition has deteriorated. But feedback like yours is very encouraging!
Deb
October 25, 2011
This brings back memories of when my Dad died. The thing I remember most is that he was Daddy of me when I was little. No matter how old they get, it comes back to being Daddy. And I’m sure you feel like me–I didn’t know my Dad long enough.
Let people take care of you a little extra for a while. Strangely, I had a professor when my Dad was dying and after he died, who went a little out of his way to be concerned, and it made my life so much easier.
🙂 Marion
October 26, 2011
Thanks for your kind words Marion. I have to admit to still feeling a bit numb but I agree…. I didn’t know my father for long enough.
October 25, 2011
So sorry for your loss. Hugs.
October 26, 2011
Thanks so much Karen.
October 25, 2011
Hi Deb,
My condolences for your loss. I think your quote from Anya summed it up beautifully, it’s surreal really how death and life continually meet.
You’re in my thoughts. Take care of you.
xx Liz N
October 26, 2011
Very true Liz, and thanks. Look forward to catching up when things get back to normal (as normal as possible).
October 26, 2011
Very sorry for your loss (and the rest of your family).
October 26, 2011
Thanks Carrie.