On Loss

A while back, I wrote a longish series on how death is used in fiction. At the time, I was somewhat dismissive of the subject. Or maybe academic is a better word. But recent I've suffered an unexpected bereavement within my immediate family, and that's brought me to thinking about death from a different angle. Principally, the reaction to it.

I won't go into too much detail, but I will say that I was suddenly confronted by a wave of cliched emotions after the incident. I didn't think I'd feel them, but I did. It was a shock to see why all those cliches emerged in the first place. There was the shock after the initial discovery, the rush to try and do something to help, the sudden resignation when the paramedic declared that nothing could be done, the pushing through a growing wave of emotion, and then later phases of sadness, shock and crying.

I realise that everyone's experience of grief is different. Hence the sheer number of different types of grief portrayed in fiction when you start looking beyond the surface level Hollywood slow-motion segments. But on a basic level, there is a single thing that remains; disbelief. There is that feeling that this is all a terrible dream. Or a surreal nightmare. Or maybe some gigantic prank.

Death and reactions to it also depend on context. In a place where death is more common, such as many third world countries or some levels of current society today, there is still a culture of grief but there is a slight hardening of the soul towards death. In war, things would be different. There, death is a reality faced almost every day, so the death of a colleague may be seen as less of a shock. Still a shock, but less than an unexpected death in peacetime.

I'm afraid this is all I can write on the subject. Death is a part of everything, hence its place in fiction. But that doesn't make it easier to deal with.

Short story - A Stranger in the Park

Finding someone on a bench is an everyday occurrence in any civilised country. But as Hugo walked through the park on his day off and saw the extraordinary figure on a bench in front of the large park pond, he knew instinctively that this wasn’t an everyday spectator of anseriform behaviour. No-one else seemed to notice them, they didn’t move as he approached. The clothing he wore – the modern fashionable take on a monk’s habit – was so nondescript as to be near-transparent. The person’s face was neither masculine nor feminine, with long near-white hair and an expression both youthful and ancient.

‘Good day to you.’

The voice, flute-like in tone, arrested Hugo as he walked by. The two looked at each other, with the stranger beaming with the serenity of Our Lady of the Smiles. Hugo’s gruff voice sounded like sandpaper by comparison.

‘Hi.’

‘Care for a seat? I would appreciate some company.’

‘Well...’ Hugo was going to be late for a meeting, but the stranger’s soft tones won him over. ‘Sure. I’ll sit for a bit.’

Hugo sat. For a minute, they remained on the bench in silence. Hugo considered moving on half a dozen times, but didn’t. Something about the stranger intrigued him. Finally, they turned and spoke.

‘Do you believe humans are good?’

Hugo frowned. ‘What prompted that?’

‘It’s a question I have been asking myself all my life.’ the stranger’s accent was unusual, clipped and foreign yet speaking perfect unaccented English. ‘I’ve been considering the question recently in light of some interesting developments at my firm. One of my partners has been asking some very searching questions as part of a bet. And I can’t for the life of me think how to answer them. I thought the best way to get the answers I needed was to ask one.’

‘Ask a person?’

‘Ask a human.’

‘But aren’t you a human?’

‘That depends on how you classify humanity.’ the stranger smiled again, a smile like the sun. ‘I am certainly related to humanity. But as to whether you could biologically and physically class me as such...’

They let the sentence tail off. Hugo looked at the stranger, then laughed.

‘You can’t be serious? You?! You’re trying to say you’re G–’

The word stuck in his throat, and he clapped a hand to his neck as if someone were trying to choke him. The stranger frowned.

‘Must you use that ridiculous term? I’ve had trouble for the past several thousand years about people using that. Why can’t they use...Divine. Shaddai. Pneuma. It’s so difficult trying to talk with people when they constantly refer to you as an ancient bearded male.’

‘So you’re really–’

‘I supposed you could say that, yes. And you have some information I need. Care for a walk?’

‘But... I’ve got an appointment in.... Eh? What then–? Why’s my watch stopped?’

‘Look around you.’

Hugo glanced around. Everything and everyone around him was frozen in place, as if someone had pressed the “pause” button on a DVD player. He looked at the stranger, who smiled in turn.

‘We have all the time in the world now. Literally. So could you tell me if you think humans are inherently good or evil?’

Hugo felt at a disadvantage. ‘Well.... You promise not to turn me to salt if I don’t say what you want me to say?’

‘Who said anything about punishing the “right” or “wrong” answer. Any answer will do!’ they pinched their nose. ‘Why does everyone expect divine punishment. Honestly, they wage wars in my name when I and my firm’s staff and partners expressly forbade it in upwards of twenty different religions. On top of that, those who push against me either do nothing reprehensible or do things so terrible that even my....partners.’

‘You mean Satan?’

‘Must you use antiquated terms for them too? Sorry. I just get frustrated sometimes. Humans take so long to change. Like me, I suppose. It took me the best part of two thousand years to come down here again and ask someone a question rather than rely on “faith”. As my partner tells me, faith is so fragile, and so easily perverted. By the way, you haven’t answered my question yet. And let me assure you, any answer you feel is right is the right answer for me.’

Hugo thought long and hard. It was difficult for him. To all intents and purposes, his answer would have been one of pessimism and disbelief. He had seen so many things in the past few years to make him question whether humanity was worth anything any more. It was so utterly ridiculous, so prone to violence and discrimination, so liable to lose itself in trivia, so able to be manipulated by anyone powerful enough or charismatic enough. He wondered if the stranger could sense his thoughts, and whether that had anything to do with the serene smile on their face. Finally, Hugo gave the only answer he could.

‘I...can’t. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I know there’s good in people, but with everything that happens, how can I...’

‘I understand. Believe me, I do.’ the strange leaned in close. ‘The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge was no curse, it was my gift. A gift given in secret. In gaining knowledge, you became my equals. Mortality is the one thing I do not have. It is the one thing I crave, yet it is denied me. Mortality gives humans a window on life, and a liability of action and consequence, that I and all others of my firm lack. The answer you gave, I know it was from the heart.’

To Hugo’s surprise, the stranger kissed him full on the lips. The moment lasted an eternity, and the eternity a fraction of time. Then everything started moving again, and the stranger was gone. Hugo looked at his watch. No time had passed at all since first seeing the stranger. He decided to continue his walk, the stranger’s appearance fading from his memory. But his final words stayed with him, lingering in his mind even as the rest of it faded away.

The answer you gave, I know it was from the heart.