Well Aren’t We Full of Festive Cheer?

It's a human tendency to afford greater weight to tragedy when it happens over the holidays. I was sad to hear of the death of James Brown yesterday.

And the holiday grief was not limited to his family. An absolute tragedy in Calgary as a mother and toddler die – the mother believed to have died from natural causes, the child too young to survive without her… The horrifying deaths of 24 people in a department store fire in The Philippines. An 11-year-old girl accidentally shot and killed in Alaska.

A murdered toddler, the suspect a nine-year-old child.

I could keep going, but I think this is more than enough. The papers are filled with depressing stories… but that isn’t why I’m thinking about them.

Days ago Rob Gregory Browne blogged on near death experiences and speculated on what happens when people die.

Now, Christmas day my mother-in-law and I had an interesting conversation. We got talking about when people die. Of course, my mil’s brother-in-law has cancer and has been undergoing treatment, so that always brings death to mind as well. She was saying she’d rather go in her sleep. I was telling her about my Great Uncle Carl who died from cancer some 27 years ago, or so. Back when cancer treatment wasn’t what it is now. He died a long, slow death.

Conversely, my Great Uncle Ab got up one morning, said, “Elma, I’m going,” sat down in a chair and died. No preamble. No dramatics.

No warning.

I mentioned how some killers think that when they murder someone they can look in the eyes of the victim and, in those last few seconds of the person’s life, see the face of God. I suppose the idea is that the person is already making the journey to the other side, and through their eyes you can see eternity.

I have to say this is something I never thought about when I was writing any murders for any of the manuscripts or short stories. I tend to think more about what would be going through the victims’ minds in those final moments.

I’ve certainly thought about what motivates people to kill, but haven’t done anything in the serial killer vein, really. It’s been about power, about business. Cold, calculated.

But that’s not the same thing. Perhaps I still have a lot to learn about thinking like a killer.

I’ve had my own near-death experience, when I almost drowned at the age of 10. Maybe that’s another reason I don’t like to tread too close to the moment of death in writing.

There are some things it’s uncomfortable to be forced to look at. When I read what Rob said, about his uncle refusing to talk about those few minutes he was ‘gone’ I could understand. The reality is that words almost cheapen it, and unless you have faced that moment when you believe your death is at hand I don’t know if it would make sense to say how you feel about it or what you experience.

But I did give the thought process on that to one character in one of my manuscripts….

Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to wait until it’s published to read it. Unless, of course, you know just how to bribe me to share. Someone has part of the manuscript on its way to them.

Just not that part.

And all these depressing thoughts come despite the fact that I had a pretty good Christmas. Books. An Angel worry box sent to me from overseas, that will grace my desk and be there every moment of my writing day. A new housecoat, which was long overdue. And a lovely sweater, some calendars, the kind of little personalized items I love.

I had a good day. Today I’m braving the malls to take my mother-in-law shopping and out for lunch. I have some gift certificates to spend…

Now what about you guys? How’d you do?