THE “SHE” CHRONICLES
Episode Three – Spring, 1971
Afraid to look at the car, yet consumed by a morbid curiosity, her eyes swept over the smashed body and peered inside. Bloodied glass everywhere. His blood!
The news broke that very day. After lingering in hospital for several hours, he succumbed to his injuries. A night of drunken carousing and life was over at age 21.
How fortunate for her they had parted ways the month before. She could well have been a passenger in that vehicle of death!
Ironically, she was just learning to drive. It affected her state mind and fuelled a burning need to see the wreckage.
There would be two days of visitation, followed by a Catholic funeral mass, then interment. This was her first brush with death and the grief overwhelmed her. She couldn’t face going to the funeral home alone and enlisted a friend to lean on.
According to rumours, the family had insisted on an open casket, despite the severity of his injuries. Hard to find a sombre outfit. It was 1971 and her wardrobe was full of mini skirts and hot pants. That black maxi skirt at the back of the closet would have to do! Knees trembling, stomach tight; she waited for her friend to collect her.
As they entered the visitation room, she could feel all eyes boring into her. Some people were whispering and she guessed what they were saying. “That’s the slut he was involved with.”
Older generation Italians didn’t take kindly to outsiders and she wasn’t even Catholic – the ultimate sin! Her friend gripped her arm and muttered: “Ignore them!” Shaking now.
They slowly made their way to the casket. He was wearing his best dark blue suit, with a white shirt and striped tie. She’d never seen him in a tie before. This was the era of colourful printed shirts and open collars.
On closer inspection, she realized the hair was a wig. Yes, it was black, but a different style! The face was barely recognizable under heavy makeup. Feeling sick and trying not to faint, she leaned in a little closer, then recoiled in horror!
Part of his nose was missing, the side facing the mourners propped up by toothpicks. She stifled a scream and embraced her friend. “Please get me out of here.”
That spectre haunted her for years. She refused to attend any more visitations, until decades later when a close friend passed away. His was a peaceful death and there was nothing to fear, yet the feeling of horror returned. Visions of a broken face from long ago swam before her eyes and they filled with tears.
©D.D.B. 2014
Literature on DRINKING AND DRIVING
Ever have a memory that haunted you for life? THE VISITATION #dogladysden #amwriting #memoir Share on X
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All episodes of The “She” Chronicles are jagged fragments of my life. They are told in the third person by a nameless protagonist to allow for some emotional detachment. See below for more installments:
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Dog Mom and (retired) Canine Innkeeper in suburban Toronto, Canada, known as The Doglady. Former corporate workaholic. Writer, photographer, digital creator. Animal lover, music fanatic, inveterate traveller. Eternal hippie/rockchick. History, literature and cinema buff. Hockey and soccer fan. Dedicated night owl. German/Canadian binational, multilingual. Let me entertain you!
33 thoughts on “THE VISITATION”
This must be so hard to relive, but writing about it can be so therapeutic, Debbie. You’ve done a great job of writing this.
Thank you, Corinne. Writing in the third person did make it somewhat easier.
I had last year while writing a blog post, had visualized myself in the casket. Trust me, it was scary and sad. beautifully narrated. I could sense the pain. heartbreaking indeed.
Visualizing oneself in a casket must be chilling! Thank you for your words of praise. Much appreciated!
The magnitude of the emotional scars left from this are unfathomable… I cringed, just reading.
Nice to know my writing has an impact, albeit a chilling one, in this case. Yes, the scars remain.
No, I don’t do open caskets. In fact my immediate family so far hasn’t done anything other than scattering ashes in weird places. It was beautifully written, though – very powerful.
I don’t do horror either. Still can’t get the face at the window of the hospital in American Werewolf in London out of my mind.
I like the idea of scattering ashes. Seems more sentimental and practical, too! Thank you so much for that high praise. Makes my day! 😀 I’ve been thinking of writing a few more of these and gathering them into a book. The horror genre doesn’t appeal to me either.
It is heartbreaking to see someone dear in such conditions. I can’t imagine the pain and suffering of those left behind. Nothing prepares us to deal with loss. Take care.
You are so right, Sulekha. There is no preparation for these sad occurrences. Thanks for dropping in!
Everyone has different ideas about funerals and burial options, even in my family, we are split many times over on the subject. I guess for some, the open casket is a last chance to see that person, though every one I’ve ever been too didn’t feel that way to me. People never looked the same once they are gone. I was troubled for a while as a kid after attending the open casket service for a person I never knew but was told that he was my grandfather. Sometimes, I feel like what helps one person grieve and move on, traumatizes another.
Great Flashback Friday post and a continuation to this emotional story.
The Italian custom, at least where I live, is to have two or three days of visitation with an open casket, so people can say “goodbye”, followed by a closed casket funeral mass. It is traumatic, especially when there are visible injuries. With the exception of one close friend, I have steadfastly refused to attend any more visitations. Thank you for your thoughts. I hope that troubling image of your deceased grandfather didn’t cause you any lingering after effects.
You know in the Deep South, or in Georgia, where I was born they usually open the casket also. That can be a good or bad thing. For some people, it is the absolute horror.
I looked at the film Rosemary’s baby when that came out. It took me years to wipe that out of memory. Even now, I don’t go to horror movies. I can’t deal with them or read horror books.
Shalom aleichem,
Patricia
It definitely wasn’t a good thing, in this case, Pat. Rosemary’s baby was a chilling movie! I’m not a huge fan of the horror genre either. Thanks for dropping in and have a great week.
Awful! I don’t understand the open casket either. And yes, I do have memories that have haunted me all my life but I can’t talk about them. It is probably a good idea if we do, however.
The visitation is sort of like a wake, where the corpse is in full view, so people can say goodbye. Not a great idea, in cases of severe injuries. 🙁 Talking or writing about painful memories can be cathartic. I find using third person narrative offers a modicum of detachment. You shared so many painful memories in your book, Carol. I can’t imagine even worse ones!
How horrible to have to go through something so sad especially with the comments being made unfairly about you. I have a memory of a grown man, his eyes glazed over as if possessed by some evil force, fixated on me. Sensing danger, I let him know that my mom and her girlfriend were outside. he stopped and told me twice, under his breath to get the hell away. The next time I saw that look was done by an actor, Brian Dennehy, when he was playing the role of John Wayne Gacy
It was a traumatic experience; that’s for sure! Your encounter sounds chilling! I can imagine you would see that face in your dreams. Thank goodness you sensed the danger.
Great writing Debbie. Sad to know it’s a true story. But it’s those early encounters with death that stay with us for life. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Thank you for sharing your story. It’s a powerful reminder about drinking and driving. Back in the 70s we did it all the time and never thought anything of it. Until something like this happened…
Yes, it certainly left an impression on me for a long, long time and it was difficult to write about, even now. (Hence, the third-person narrative.) Thanks so much for reading it Michele and I’m glad you liked the writing. It’s true, nobody worried much about drinking and driving in those days. 🙁
Wow Debbie i am sorry you had to got through that. To me they should never had an open casket. I did have a friend that died when I was 14, he was a class mate, but it was a medical reason. He had to have surgery done on his brain and what amazed me is they has shaved his head for surgery, but kept the hair. They had glued his hair back on just like he wore it. Totally amazed me.
Now i had another friend that was killed in Vietnam and his was a closed casket and for many years I would see someone walking down the street and think “Oh there he is.”
Does that mean that I deal with closer better if I see them?
Oh, by the way my oldest daughter was 4 when I took her to my Aunts funeral, and explained that we were just saying good bye to her body, because it makes us feel better. Her soul was really in heaven. She became a CSI when she grew up. That stuff does not bother her she says, unless the blood is gurgling.
Thank for sharing this story Debbie and have a good weekend.
Debbie
That’s a pretty horrific experience you had as well, Debbie! Yes, sometimes it really is better to close the casket, but I see your point as well. (Same thing with the wrecked car.) Funerals I can handle, but always avoid the viewing ritual, except for that one close friend. His wife would have been hurt had I not attended. That was a perfect explanation for your young daughter and she obviously turned out well. Thanks for visiting. 🙂
Debbie, your writing is hauntingly descriptive and powerful. Thank you. You trigger memories in all of us with this snippet.
That’s very high praise and I thank you, Charmaine! 😀 Have a great week.
Haunting memories–I guess that there are two that might qualify, although perhaps not lifelong… The first is one that took place twelve years ago; I still have an occasional nightmare Of Maurizio Monzu, the git that tried to rape me. The other is much more recent, and although I hope it won’t last for the rest of my life, I have a feeling it will; every time I close my eyes I see R… after he fell. And again in the hospital, at the end. What haunts me is the fact that I did all that I could, and it wasn’t enough.
Those memories will fade for you in time, Mary and I hope you’ll eventually rest easy, knowing you did all you could for R. ♥ Thanks for visiting.
Thoroughly drawn in with this story, Debbie, the horror of the ‘viewing’ there for all to feel… My Aunt tried to make me and my two siblings ‘view’ my Uncle as he lay dead. We were all under ten I think, hard to remember the full facts, but the horror stays with me, such a young age to think of death and a loved one without any ‘life’ inside them. We all are touched by deaths finger, relatives, friends wise, and our memories of those gone on ahead are so important. xPenx
Hi Pen! 🙂 Yes, I agree, it’s much better to remember loved ones as they were in life. To subject young children to such a viewing definitely isn’t a good idea. Thanks for visiting and have a great weekend.
Good post, Debbie. After attending many funerals for both personal friends, family and work related I chose several years ago not to attend any more. Ok, I’ll have to attend my own, right? My last memory of people going forward will always remain a good one.
Haunting memories…hmmm. I would prefer not to stir those up at the moment. Thank you for sharing this 🙂
Hi Mike; Funerals are depressing, no doubt about that! 🙁 You could always opt not to have one. My father didn’t, as per his wishes. I agree, it’s better to remember people as they were and not as they end up. we all have haunting memories, yes? To share or not is certainly a personal choice. Thanks for visiting and have a good weekend. 🙂
I’m haunted by the ghosts of my innocence. Of the times I innocently hurt other with my words or with my temper.
I still see the occasional face of a person who was hurt by my careless choice of words, words that I did not know could hurt, words of the un-socialized child or child within.
I regret that I can not go back seeking redemption for my sins. Most of these people are long gone and one or two far away not heard from again.
I guess we all have our ghosts from days past; mine no better or worse than any others. Just that these belong to me forevermore.
I think we all have our moments of petulance, but that’s just part of life. Words once spoken can’t be retracted, but here’s hoping the person on the receiving end of such vitriol was able to overcome and perhaps even gain strength from the experience. I was mercilessly bullied as a child and that left me with the “take no shit” attitude I have today. 🙂 Yes, we all have our ghosts, don’t we? Thanks for visiting Chi Chi and have a good weekend.