Faces of Death

Back in college, my senior or junior year, my friends would get together on a regular base and watch a video called FACES OF DEATH. It was just clips of the final moments of someone’s life, perhaps a car accident, a man being mauled by a bear, an avalanche wiping out a climbing party, or a woman falling off the side of a cliff. I do not recall them being suicides but rather accidents that often begged the obvious question: why was the camera person not trying to save them?

Why we watched these videos, I am still not sure. It was either because the videos were banned or because we were college students which made us stupid enough to believe that it was a good idea. Of course, we were quite often stupid enough to think that many things were good ideas, especially after we sucked down a few too many beers, chased by a few too many shots of whatever cheap, hard alcohol was on sale that week at the local liquor store.

I have often debated the long-term impact of watching such a gruesome video, which back then we thought was the REAL DEAL because we lacked the technology to fudge such a video. The bear did in fact maul the man and ate him in the same way that we attacked the “all you can eat” crabs at the local seafood dive. The impact I recall was horrible nightmares for weeks … or did it go beyond that?
I pause here to try to remember if one of the gang, Matt, was among the ones who did in fact watch these videos. Matt is significant in that just a few years ago, just before he took his own life, Matt shot four of his fellow workers at the Connecticut State Lottery. I can remember reading the email from an old friend who wrote me with the shocking news. I remember thinking vividly of the “faces of death” in that office; the grotesque final moments of his fellow workers begging to be forgiven as Matt, with his thick New England accent, made the decision that they were included in his final exodus. (Matt was fired for not getting along with his coworkers, a point that I think was well proven with his final act.)

I have not thought of those videos since the episode with Matt. Not until yesterday when I ran into another story of such a nature. Not so gruesome and not with such a horrid account, but still shocking to say the least.

I had just reached the coffee shop, my normal routine to get coffee when I realized my neighbor was in line right in front of me. He is not a man I know well, but he has lived in the house across the street long before I arrived. Both of his teenage kids were born in this house. I would say I know his wife better as she has given me a massage on a few occasions, but I know him from the awkward times that I smack into him around town. Or when I am out walking my dog and he is mowing the lawn, usually wrestling with a lawnmower, and we stop to chat. His schedule of an ER doctor means I am never sure when I might see him. He seems to be either OFF work or ON work, but either way he is always exhausted from the shift work.

I remember the first few times we chatted.

“Horses, my god, I hope you don’t ride horses,” he said when he saw me dressed in jodhpurs and a riding jacket. “Why the accidents I see coming through the ER with horses. They are horrible. Always bad brain injuries.”

And then the next time. “Mountain biking.? My god, I hope you don’t mountain bike,” he said when saw me dressed in my cycling shorts. “Why the accidents I see coming through the ER with mountain bikes. Always broken bones, bad breaks too.”

And the next, which confirmed that this was his standard greeting, “Driving far?” he said when saw me dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, but heading toward my car, “Why the roads around here are horrible. Car accidents always leave people dead.”

So with those 3 interactions, I always made it a point to never tell him what I was up to. If I was at the point of needing a conversation, it was a choice between his real estate development or the weather. And lately I had just focused on the weather because I was sure his real estate development was not going so well.

And somehow when I saw him at the coffee shop my mind flashed on the large FOR SALE sign in the middle of his yard. I knew it couldn’t be good; after all, he was on my divorce watch list for years. But my neighbors who have the job of keeping up with such things had not informed me yet of the news, so I had remained slightly hopeful. But the look on his face told me my hope was fading; he was gaunt, beaten down, weathered face. I knew where the conversation was heading.

“We are getting divorced,” he said with the look of defeat. “I have tried for years and Jan really wants out. She ….” I gave him a brief hug before he abruptly grabbed me and pointed me to the coffee counter. I was next in line. He said, “Here you should order your coffee.”

I noticed that he was trying to not cry, a rather traumatic moment for a man of his nature. A man who is accustomed to seeing bad things in his life, the faces of death walking into the hospital hour after hour, minute and minute. And him, the grim reaper often being left to tell the helpless family the bad news.

I quickly ordered my normal coffee which only took a minute. My friend working at the coffee shop knows my drink well and he charges it to “the account.” So the time is minimal … but before I could continue the conversation, my neighbor seemed to have slipped out the door of the coffee shop. I could see him already half way across the street. It was as if the bear from the video clip “faces of death” was dragging his twisted body down the street … and he was just at the point where he was no longer screaming, the very few seconds before he would be dead.

The role of the bear in this movie was clearly not played by his wife. But rather it seemed to be played by his entire life: an impossible job that he loathed but never could walk away from because of all the years of medical school, a relationship that wasn’t quite working, kids that are now heading off into their own lives, and a lawn that always needs to be mowed.

I stood there waiting for my coffee, feeling as if I had become the camera person just shooting the whole scene and doing nothing.