tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post2183792134324017622..comments2023-06-28T22:58:28.247+10:00Comments on Sixth In Line: Haunted by Photos of the Dead 1.Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-51487040375161186902010-02-21T06:06:27.303+11:002010-02-21T06:06:27.303+11:00I love your comment: "I will hitch her memori...I love your comment: "I will hitch her memories to mine and look for signs in between, look for the haunting to uncover something of her past."<br /><br />That is how I feel about my Dad and Mom both. I often forget my Dad and Mom were teenagers once, they were young and newlyweds--they had a story all their own.<br /><br />I've been hearing stories about them I'd never heard. Dad is 84--getting close to the jumping off place.<br /><br />Back then death was a part of life. Grammie used to tell me a house wasn't a home until someone had died there, been married there, been born there.<br /><br />I'm sure the place we live in now has this kind of history--but, alas, not recorded that I know of.<br /><br />You are an amazing writer. You not only have a fascinating way of putting thought to paper, but what you've written causes me to ponder.Beth Niquettehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12123973998090266918noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-75295868061839362332010-02-21T00:53:20.444+11:002010-02-21T00:53:20.444+11:00Oooh I just read Manon's comment and your resp...Oooh I just read Manon's comment and your response. I jst love what you said about the eyes.Ces Adoriohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17338000465619901229noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-31051259441144886602010-02-20T09:18:43.189+11:002010-02-20T09:18:43.189+11:00Thanks Jay. I think you'll find those books f...Thanks Jay. I think you'll find those books fascinating, if you can locate them, especially the Ruby. <br /><br />I look through it all the time, all those amazing photos of dead people. It reminds me of how I felt as a child when I visited huge churches. come to think of it I still feel it when I visit cathedrals and the like - the eyes of the past looking down on me. <br /><br />Thanks for getting back to me, Joanne May. It's good to hear that you're feeling better after your cold. <br /><br />It must have been hard in years gone by, this business of dead babies. People rather dismissed the business of losing a child as just one of those things. And sure it happened more often than now at least in the western world where infant mortality has dropped, but nevertheless, I could not imagine anything more painful than to lose a child at any stage of a pregnancy and more so at any stage after birth. The death of a loved one, however old, is painful. <br /><br />Thanks for your kind words.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-60802368290089888292010-02-20T09:11:18.744+11:002010-02-20T09:11:18.744+11:00Gosh Manon, your grandmother had twelve children a...Gosh Manon, your grandmother had twelve children and five once were children and now ghosts fluttering around the nursery. <br /><br />I'll bet there's something in the beautiful eyes you paint that hark back to those ancestors. In those deep pools of blue we see reflected the eyes of the past. <br /><br />I always find the eyes in our portraits haunting, clear and bright but with a depth that goes back in time. Thanks.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-36776088464953900342010-02-20T05:32:16.986+11:002010-02-20T05:32:16.986+11:00Hi Elizabeth,
Thank you for visiting my blog via C...Hi Elizabeth,<br />Thank you for visiting my blog via Caio's site. Sorry for the delay in visiting you... I am now clear of the cold, so I'm able to catch up with everyone.:)<br />Your writing touched me deeply because it reminded me of my grandmother. I was very close to her when I was young and remember thinking how fragile her hands use to look. I can still see them now in my mind. <br />She also lost two children at a very young age a boy and a girl. <br />My mother became an only child and always wanted a brother or a sister.<br />I do feel sad for my grandmother. She did find it difficult to talk about the children and did not have any photos of them.<br />Thank you for your interesting post, it was very thought provoking and I hope your mothers hand will get better soon.<br />Kindest regards,<br />Jo May.Jo Potterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08365999873131320691noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-48050190669081176822010-02-20T02:12:12.996+11:002010-02-20T02:12:12.996+11:00Wow, what can I possibly have to offer such a thou...Wow, what can I possibly have to offer such a thoughtful and moving post -- and what hasn't already been said? Enough to say that this did touch me, and I'll see if I can find those books as a recommendation, and a comment on how well written this is.Come Back Brighterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06265267087716795746noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-3958248096583272922010-02-19T23:42:10.511+11:002010-02-19T23:42:10.511+11:00I think taking pictures of the dead probably happe...I think taking pictures of the dead probably happened more years ago. My grandmother had 19 kids and seven of them died under the age of 5. I believe there were some pics taken. They used to have the wakes in their own living rooms. That just freaks me out. Yup... I'm one of those. <br />There's so much more I could say after reading your post. So much I can relate to with my own family.<br />Thank you for sharing.Manonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13892591394375241132noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-15657608224404665282010-02-17T14:00:25.435+11:002010-02-17T14:00:25.435+11:00Thanks, Phoenix. What you say about the notion of...Thanks, Phoenix. What you say about the notion of 'touching upon' is resonant. We all want to be touched and to touch in some way, to connect with each other. It begins between mothers and babies and continues for the rest of our lives. <br /><br /><br />Dominic, I agree with you about how different people seem when they are dead, when the life first leaves their bodies. <br /><br />I remember getting a shock when I saw my husband's father shortly after he had died some years ago. The man's face had always seem so angry, care worn and wrinkled. In death it had softened. I thought I was looking at a different person, not my father in law at all. <br /><br />Thanks, Dominic.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-52037882865296149132010-02-17T09:42:39.623+11:002010-02-17T09:42:39.623+11:00A very thought provoking post - might even get me ...A very thought provoking post - might even get me writing about my dad (the POW) again! I'm not sure I'd want a pic of anyone close to me when they were dead: not because I'm squeamish about it, but because whenever I've seen the body of someone I know dead, the facial expression I'm familiar with, that announced their presence, was totally absent. (If it were part of my culture to take such pics I'd probably feel differently). With a baby, in the days before cameras were 2 a penny -and then digital- it may have been that the only pic one could get would be post mortem.<br /><br />re photos again, I'm reminded of graves I've seen from various E European cultures where people have put photos of the occupant on the headstone. That seems to confront what is a taboo for some people too.<br /><br />My mother in law is just getting over a dreadful gash to her leg - the older you get the more damage you do and the longer it seems to take for things to heal.Dominic Rivronhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02618013365521035400noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-28426045058109964112010-02-17T09:11:29.817+11:002010-02-17T09:11:29.817+11:00Incredible post. So many layers - so much to touch...Incredible post. So many layers - so much to touch upon. Why do we say touch upon when it means to discuss something? Because we feel it. You wonder out loud why people wince at the injuries of others - because if described in enough detail, we feel it.<br /><br />I feel your words, your mother's loss, her pain, your yearning. I feel all of it.Phoenixhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07477498671080132176noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-64096585020060169992010-02-17T00:31:46.152+11:002010-02-17T00:31:46.152+11:00Your words are so moving....
My poor English does...Your words are so moving....<br /><br />My poor English does not allow me to write all I would like to, but this text is deeply emotional for me and I guess for every one who reads it.isabellehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10198235605141206546noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-12009489346222272302010-02-16T23:36:36.930+11:002010-02-16T23:36:36.930+11:00I found that strangely moving, though I have to ag...I found that strangely moving, though I have to agree with Jim that I have no great interest in anything dead. I did go with my wife to see her mother's corpse an d we both thought afterwards that it had been a mistake. I can't imagine that I would ever take photographs. Death masks I find very eerie, for example.Dave Kinghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08430484174826768488noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-10618436683182382852010-02-16T18:52:17.573+11:002010-02-16T18:52:17.573+11:00Thanks, Jane. I will try to keep asking my mother...Thanks, Jane. I will try to keep asking my mother questions. Her hearing is not so good these days, but she still loves to talk. thanks for your good wishes.<br /><br />Ces, thanks to you, too. I find it fascinating that you can separate out when to cringe at the sight of blood, and when not. It must come out of your training. I am also impressed by your culture's respect for the dead and for the process of dying. We need more of it.<br /><br />I went to a funeral earlier this year and we were not allowed to see the coffin either cremated or buried. We were asked to leave and go off to a 'party' in the park. <br /><br />I have nothing against wakes - cheerful loud and jolly wakes - but somehow I also want to be part of the gut wrenching grief that comes with the final disposal of the body. <br /><br />It's as if in our country here in Australia the business of death has been sanitised. I think this is unfortunate. <br /><br />Thanks again, Ces.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-26951242941403982332010-02-16T18:45:53.426+11:002010-02-16T18:45:53.426+11:00Thanks Cuban. Just today I sent off an essay for ...Thanks Cuban. Just today I sent off an essay for consideration in a major literary magazine here in Australia and the editor came back to me almost instantly - no they could not consider my essay for publication because it was too long. I used to be lucky if I could get anything written above a thousand words, now I have the opposite problem, too much to say. Nevermind. <br /><br />Thanks too for observing the symbolism of the business of 'peeling back'. Mind you the more layers you shift the more you have to see and say. <br /><br />And, finally, Cuban, I agree with you on the right to photograph deceased loved ones if you so desire. It should not be a requirement under any circumstances, I'd say. <br /><br />Thanks for your beautiful poem, Claire. It resonates with me. It has the quality of that hymn, psalm, verse from the bible we learned as children: <br />'To everything turn turn turn turn, There is a season , turn turn turn, And a time for every purpose, <br />Under heaven...'<br /><br />I have a sister who spells her name exactly as you do, Claire. She is immediately below me in age and therefore our relationship has tended to be intense. It still is although we live some distance apart. <br /><br />The point I'm making here is that every time I see your name, read your comments or your blog, I'm aware of that sense of connectedness I have with my sister and ridiculously I can't help but wonder whether you two might be similar. 'Disorder out of order' you might say. <br /><br />Thanks, Claire for your depth and thoughtfulness.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-26534634321113010692010-02-16T14:06:42.410+11:002010-02-16T14:06:42.410+11:00I think it is a cultural practice to photograph th...I think it is a cultural practice to photograph the dead. People did it when I was growing up and my own father, a photographer used to photograph them at the request of the deceased's surviving relatives. I used to help my Father develop the photographs and I would be scared to look at some of the dead, in fact all of them. However, death in our culture is such an integral part of life that we witness it with much dignity and even find it an honor if we are invited to be with the dying.<br /><br />My sister and I clinical pronounced our Mother's death but I shall always remember witnessing her beautiful passing. It was a moment filled with so much sadness yet so much joy and thankfulness. It was a moment when my Mother stopped being mere human but someone with supernatural powers to heal my breaking heart with just the remembrance of her life.<br /><br />As a nurse I find it very easy to listen to description of injuries and retell and document them as a matter of course. Yet when I am not on duty, I cringe at the sight of blood and listening to people describe their injuries and even touche their wounds. Yet, I had no qualms performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to my next door neighbor when her heart stopped beating and she stopped breathing. It is as if I have a switch when to cringe and not cringe.Ces Adoriohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17338000465619901229noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-25606105528402759452010-02-16T11:39:11.220+11:002010-02-16T11:39:11.220+11:00I bugged my mother with a lot of questions before ...I bugged my mother with a lot of questions before she passed away, but there were so many more I wished I had asked. Keep asking while you have the opportunity.<br /><br />I hope her hand heals quickly.Jane Kennedy Suttonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12519340747761460017noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-66482738548700689922010-02-16T04:55:15.466+11:002010-02-16T04:55:15.466+11:00AFTERWORD
The end we like to say
is also the begi...AFTERWORD<br /><br />The end we like to say<br />is also the beginning. <br />Charged with certainty <br />and uncertainty we must each day <br />face the page undaunted <br />by the endless possibilities <br />of colour. This has always been <br />the way; find the truths a parent <br />cannot teach, the purpose <br />and presence of chaos, the sense <br />and non-sense of order. <br />Nothing and no one <br />is ours to own and so to lose <br />or keep. The blood <br />and breath of life ensure we go on <br />turning, reinventing meaning <br />from inside a full circle.<br /><br />CB 2007<br /><br />Thank you for the range and depth of these conversations, Elizabeth.Claire Beynonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00005365677016923903noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-16817665268970608712010-02-16T00:43:05.031+11:002010-02-16T00:43:05.031+11:00First of all, I wish your mother better.
Secondly...First of all, I wish your mother better.<br /><br />Secondly, what a cracking post. Forget the amount of writing, it's always the content that does it for me (at the moment I'm reading a seven-hundred-odd page book, so I should know). I understand why your mother's memory seems to be better with past events but not recent ones. I think it's to do with how we attune ourselves with what is distant and relevant in our life and discard the minutiae of our current experience. The question Ruby poses is an important one: why not take photos of your dead ones? However, I for one, would not like to do it. I would like there to be the right to photograph your next of kin when they're lying in the coffin, but I reserve the right to grieve privately.<br /><br />I also found a symbolism in your mother describing how they peeled the skin back at hospital and you peeling your family roots back to reveal your ancestry.<br /><br />Excellent post. Many thanks. I'm already looking forward to the next instalments.<br /><br />Greetings from London.A Cuban In Londonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16423293358605007539noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-35444467785447553832010-02-15T20:54:21.722+11:002010-02-15T20:54:21.722+11:00Thanks, Jim Moffitt. It's good to hear from ...Thanks, Jim Moffitt. It's good to hear from you. <br /><br />You're about the age of my 'little' brother, judging by your blog. I measure people's ages relative to mine by their approximation to the ages of my siblings. And then I tend to imagine other aspects accordingly.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-33935270432420505632010-02-15T20:48:27.617+11:002010-02-15T20:48:27.617+11:00Christopher, thanks. You're right about the im...Christopher, thanks. You're right about the importance of acknowledging our mortality, hard as it is. <br /><br />My mother used to say you can always tell a woman's age by the skin in her neck and by her elbows. <br /><br />My mother tends towards vanity. Even now at ninety she refuses to wear sleeveless dresses because she hates her wrinkly arms. She's reluctant to wear glasses for the same reason. They make her look 'older'. <br /><br />I hope I do not get to feel so ashamed of something as inevitable as aging. <br /><br />Obviously you're working on aging gracefully, too. As I said before, it's inevitable, if we're lucky enough to get there. We can't avoid it, despite all the botox and face lifts that the beautician's tout.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-47508986644373614042010-02-15T19:36:39.338+11:002010-02-15T19:36:39.338+11:00I'm with you as far as what happens after we d...I'm with you as far as what happens after we die, Jim Murdoch. I don't need to know either. I'm of the view that when we die our bodies disintegrate and our spirit lives on in the memories of those who follow us. That's enough for me. <br /><br />I sometimes wish I believed in reincarnation. It would be a great comfort to think I could get another go at life, especially as I have so much I'd like to do and already I can see that time is running out. Not that those who believe in reincarnation suggest we have a say in the type of next life we get. I gather it's not up to us. <br />For me it's a case of having to make the most of what's left. Death is part of life, the end stage as opposed to the beginning and like so many other aspects of life, it's tough, but I'm sure for some it can be a good enough experience, not perfect perhaps but then nothing is. Including the fact that when you die you're dead.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-61173210975689168732010-02-15T04:40:02.014+11:002010-02-15T04:40:02.014+11:00I was glued to the screen reading your post. Thank...I was glued to the screen reading your post. Thank you. I'll not be far.jamesdalemoffitt@gmail.comhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14634090072071425408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-81239970525969813982010-02-15T03:33:54.704+11:002010-02-15T03:33:54.704+11:00Look at this :) In the USA it is said that we hav...Look at this :) In the USA it is said that we have gone to great lengths to keep death under wraps. I think this huge response shows how denial of death is not completely the case when the audience is global.<br /><br />I was taught that my overall health depends on breaking my denial of death. I cannot run from or fight what is a natural limit to life, or if you will, one of the doorways to beyond. It is a practice in humility to keep death as near as it actually is.<br /><br />You write so well. My mother had that kind of skin at the end and the Coumadin that she was required to take didn't help. Thin skin and not much clotting. I guess it is universal as a part of aging. I am getting that kind of skin now at 64. I can see it happening. It is not that thin yet, not by a decade or more but I can see the changes.christopherhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04201537517464996231noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-74589916997365052512010-02-14T22:20:01.747+11:002010-02-14T22:20:01.747+11:00Don’t be surprised. No one said a writer had to be...Don’t be surprised. No one said a writer had to be fascinated in everything. There are many things that I am incurious about mostly to do with science and the physical world. This is a bad example because I’m sure I did ask, but I was the kind of kid who wouldn’t care why the sky was blue because there was nothing I could do to make it be anything else. I have my chosen beliefs concerning death. I don’t need to know what happens after I die because I’m alive right now. There are those who would argue that knowing might affect how I live my life. Perhaps, but I choose not to know. I’ve never understood those people who read the last page of a book and then go back to the start.<br /><br>Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28133718.post-90685541804050099072010-02-14T17:06:41.078+11:002010-02-14T17:06:41.078+11:00Thanks, Kass. My mother tells me that having photo...Thanks, Kass. My mother tells me that having photos of her dead loved ones is the only way to get to their funeral in some instances when she lives on the other side of the world. <br /><br />When I was little I noticed often the black edged envelopes that came from Holland and signified that another relative or friend had died. My mother opened these envelopes with apprehension and pain. <br /><br />Thanks, Pam. I agree with you about how differently different generations deal with their experiences, particularly those that are painful. In fact we all deal with our vulnerabilities in different ways. <br /><br />There are universalities but it's part of our uniqueness to approach things in our own ways. Hence the endless fascination many of us have with one another. We learn so much simply through hearing each others' stories and ways of dealing with life. <br /><br />Thanks, Mim. I agree, a wince is a mark of empathy. I often feel that way wen someone describes something awful or when i see it. I hold y breath and draw my body in, as if by way of protection. <br /><br />As Byatt wrote something in her novel, Still Life about the awfulness of the first wound on a baby's skin. I thought of this when I read about the speed you describe in your son's healing. <br /><br />It takes ages for old skin to heal. It's one of the things I dread. Already my wounds take longer to heal than when I was young. <br /><br />But strangely I think it's in the reverse when it comes to emotional wounds, insults and the like. <br /><br />I think I bounce back more quickly from the 'slings and arrows' than I did when young. How about you? <br /><br />Hi Brownie and thanks to you, too. I shall check out Middle Child. The name of her blog fascinates me, as I consider myself a middle child. <br /><br />There are extraordinary signs of kindness in the blogoshphere, far more such signs that the trolls offer. Otherwise I suspect we'd all give up. <br /><br />I'd like to think the blogosphere is a microcosm of life on the outside. There's more generosity in the world than cruelty. Though there is still plenty of the latter, unfortunately.Elisabethhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04015624747225433940noreply@blogger.com