Yesterday I sat outside the Medical Examiners Office
if I had time to make a quick trip for some Gelato before my bus came along.
Today I feel
Not to be dramatic
but I felt that way yesterday too.
Maybe I should light my hair on fire
say I’m going to support Bernie Sanders
and load up on Beatle CD’s and start drinking coffee and proclaim
I am ‘ woke’ every chance I get.
I am with it, aware of it. I am too cool for school.
If I do this, I bet I won’t be invisible or feel invisible anymore.
looking at this I have reconsidered.
I think I’ll remain invisible
I have learned over the last few days, that when I get a text from the Sounder that says, ” Medical Emergency ” it probably means someone was on the tracks and got hit by a train.
That’s what happened on Wednesday.
I was on my way home when someone sitting across from me said he just got a text from his friend that was riding on the train ahead of us and his friend had texted that the train they were on hit someone.
Almost right after that we pulled into our first stop and then we got word about the fatality and that we were looking at a two hour wait minimum.
Considering I was going to get to go home and my family wasn’t going to have to claim me at the morgue, I decided that I may as well not stress, stay with the train instead if racing for a bus or calling for an Uber and that I would eventually get to where I needed to be.
Once we got going, we eventually got to the place on the tracks where the accident happened.
There were law enforcement cars, there was a Medical Examiner’s truck and then I saw a gurney. I was surprised that it was there, considering.
Our train was moving slowly as we moved through the intersection, I looked out my window and I saw a leg, a little further down I saw part of a torso and then I saw the people who have to take care of situations like this one kneeling in a circle and working.
And that’s when some jackass who rides the train shouted out ‘ Oh my GOD.”
But she wasn’t crying out in horror, she sounded like she was at the movies or at a concert- she sounded thrilled.
I write about death, I have worked in a Funeral Home, I have been there when my loved ones have passed away and I explore and study death and it’s influence in art and music an literature.
But here is the thing- when I am in the presence of Death I show it respect.
I respect the deceased, I respect the process, I respect the impact death has on what it touches.
I think that the passengers on my train, for the most part respected that- Not everyone looked and some people made it a point to NOT look.
If you were going to be a part of that moment, if you wanted to witness what death did on the tracks that day- then don’t act like that person lived and then died to give you a cheap thrill.
If there is on thing I’ve learned about Death over the years, I’ve learned it has a way of catching those little moments where people did not respect the process and it stores them away for the future.
For. Your. Future.
You’re not seeing
what you think you’re seeing.
Is it the water or is it the sky?
Is this real?
I honestly don’t know.
This morning on my train ride through Minnesota the train slid to a stop and something about the stop woke me up, but I was tired and fell back to sleep.
I woke up again about a half hour later and realized the train wasn’t moving and that we were in the same tree lined stretch of track.
Word came through, eventually someone had been out on the tracks and our train hit them.
It had been such a beautiful morning.
Just a short time ago
I was at an exhibit called ” Bodies In Motion.”
I ran into a woman I ride the train with there and we walked around for awhile and took in the exhibits.
Then we came across this one and my train companion became visibly upset. Sweat popped out all over her face and she turned absolutely pale.
” I’ve had babies, I can’t look at this. I can’t be here. They never had a chance. I can’t be here.”
She meant it, she left the exhibit and nearly walked into a huge display case on her way out of the room.
Recently this woman and I were on the train together and the subject of the immigrant children who had died at Trump’s detention center came up.
” It’s not his fault. It’s their parent’s fault they’re dead. You should blame them, not him.”
I thought about those fetuses that had visibly upset her , that had moved her to tears because they ‘never had a chance’.
Sometimes I see her at the train station, but I never meet her eye and I never say hello.
I just can’t.