How to start...
Really it all ended and began and carried on with a series of unfortunate events.
My whole life Ive been surrounded with death, first at the age of 6 or 7 my Nanna, from a blood clot in the brain. Then the caretaker at our small rural school committed suicide at age 7 or 8. Then my Uncle Major John McNutt was killed overseas in Kuwait while watching a bombing exercise, this was the most public funeral I've ever attended as it was at the time all through the papers all over the TV.
I remember coming home from school age 8 or 9, our mother sat us in front of the TV and switched it on pointed to a photo of our uncle and asked us if we knew who that was. Of course! It was Uncle John!
But trust me, the novelty of him being on TV wore off when she then explained that she didn't know if he was alive or not. We were glued to the TV until the fate full news then came across the screen that he was in fact dead. Not being allowed to answer the phone because reporters were scavenging for information and as my parents haven't married [ happily defacto to this day:) ] our phone number is under McNutt.
And even attending the funeral was a small mission, i give credit to the Burnham Military camp for the hospitality they showed us; especially when our parents needed time out and they took us in the fire truck and to play on the seriously cool army courses we actually weren't allowed to play on.:)
The one thing i regret was being told by my own grandmother that if we made a fuss or got up from our seats at the public funeral she had asked the army guards to escort us out, i felt awkward to grieve and the situation was awkward enough with 100's of news cameras pointed at you.
I didn't get to cry, all i remember was staring at his casket trying not to move, occasionally panning my head to the left or right but then snapping it back into place remembering that the army guards may take me away.
I remember thinking how pretty the roses on his coffin were, how red they were.
I wondered if he was really in the coffin.
Then came the private funeral, my mom told me i was allowed to say something at this one and had encouraged us to write a poem (me and my sister) but it had never eventuated.
Sitting in the front row the person at the podium then said would anyone like to say a few words, everything in me wanted to get up but my body was paralysed in fear.
I remember wanting to stand and walk those 5 pathetic steps towards the podium to say the simple memories of a child, "i remember him teaching us to crawl holding out water guns, i remember him trying to teach us to walk on our hands, i remember him swinging us round by our ankles or one arm and one leg, our own version of helicopter, till his arms felt like they were gonna fall off and he had to go inside.."
Its all i wanted to say and i felt so suppressed and unable to get out of my seat to say those few lines however shaky they may have come out. Like the guards were still watching.
I regret not being able to stand up that day.
Ever since then I've had copious amounts of people die around me and i feel as if death is following me. I attended a Catholic High School for the remainder of my school years where i started to scripture read for competition's. Bizarre i know! I myself at present have no real faith but a few beliefs i live by (which no doubt ill blog about at another point) so reading scriptures in large crowds with amazing articulation and poise and getting 2nd place was a total shock (believe me it takes some training!!!)
The funny thing was at the time i didn't realise, but i was learning how to public speak (and public speak very well might i add). This tied into the whole death thing very well as i was asked to speak at my great uncles funeral which i did quite successfully with empathy and emotion, but without being anything close to one of those blubbering messes you see up at the altar. I have since spoken at countless funerals and attended many more.
I have been offered a job as funeral director but it was by the lady who was leaving and when i applied for the job i was told i was far too young and to come back in 5 years or so. I agree with that but it would have been polite to at least let me get a look at the job. I have since asked if there was any way that id be able to go behind the scenes to see what its like, get a feel for it. Unfortunately i was turned down.
Besides that people have been dying left right and centre, with one of my friends parents stabbing the other one to death. Another 2 homicides in our district. A good friends Twin was killed in an explosion in town. When i moved down south i saw the Fox Glacier Sky Diving plane and its 9 occupants die in a paddock across from my place of work. I move back to Greymouth and Pike explodes taking 29 brave miners with it. Now this Christchurch Earthquake.... Luckily I have since been able to contact all my friends, but some have seen things that they need never have seen.
I was sure that this year was supposed to be better... and apparently another earthquake is yet to come for the south island on the 20th of this month or on Wild Foods weekend (12th and 13th)
I do hope everyone i know, including myself is kept safe as Ive had enough of death for now to be honest.
Far too much traumatic death. I have become quite blase about death and i often seem quite frosty about it which seems to offend some people, and I'm sorry for that. Its just its nothing new to me.
I have friends aged 21, his grandparent dies and hes a total wreck.
I'm hardly 19 and I've had more people die on me than fingers on my hands.
I dedicate this Blog to all those who have died that i know of and the many funerals i attended of those who i didn't know personally. You were all excellent people.
Rest in Peace
Song of the day : Placebo - Running Up That Hill
