Street Talk: The Women In The Morgue

We went to see my brother Cam in the morgue the day after he died. I wasn't planning on going in, because watching my stepdad Jim die last year really messed me up.

We sat and waited with the cops for a while, until the most beautiful lady came out to talk to us. She knelt down in front of us, spoke softly, took my mums hand with such compassion and concern. Her name was Anouk.

"Ok I'd like to let you all know .... when you walk into the room, Cameron will be lying down with a sheet tucked up to his chest. He'll be wearing a white hospital gown. (Pointing) His head is up there and his feet down there. You can stay in there for as long as you like. Do you have any questions?"

We didn't, but we were all thinking what a wonderful person she was, really warm and caring and meant it. I'm so glad she described the scene before we went in, made it less scary.

I walked in last, stood at a distance. It was shocking and confronting and relieving all at once. There he was! Right in front of us! Hey Cambo! His beautiful hands were out in front of him and kind of up a bit. The look on his face told me he didn't suffer and wasn't in pain when he died. (I still can't believe he died. This week has been dreadful.)

I didn't want to touch him because mum said how cold he was. I think we all took turns in crying - except Dave. That week Dave gave all of us such respite in his strength.

Death is such a freaky, scary, cloistered thing in our culture. Yet it happens every day. In Bali you can buy tickets to watch a funeral and then see as the body gets set alight. Tickets. Like a show.

We all said thank you to Anouk and walked outside. The policeman told us to have a great day. When we were back at Lindas house, we couldn't believe that a coroner could be so utterly caring. Then we found out that Anouk was actually a counsellor. A bloody good one.

A few days later I needed to see Cam again one last time before he was cremated. (CREMATED WHAT) Mum did too, so she and I made an appointment and went back, just the two of us. Our final last chance to say goodbye. This time we had a lady called Michelle come out to greet us, explain where he was, etc. She was a bit more lively - told us how handsome Cam was.

Mum and I walked in and half of his face looked like it was sunburnt. It looked good, like he'd got a bit of a tan while hanging out at the old morgue. Michelle explained that as he died his head fell to the right, leaving a pool of blood. And the longer he was in the morgue, the more pronounced it was. I touched him this time. His legs and his arms and his hands. I mopped his defrosting forehead with a tissue that I put in my back pocket and vowed to always keep. I've no idea where it is now. Mum gave me some time alone with him. I cannot remember one thing I said to him. I wondered if he was just standing right there, looking at me looking at him, so unwilling to say goodbye but knowing I had to and we were never, ever to see him in this incarnation in life again.

That shit burns like nothing I've ever experienced.

Mum came back in and I press down on his legs, making a plastic sound. We wondered what it was ... maybe something they put there to keep the body cool?

We walked out, after kissing and loving as much as we could. We said goodbye to Michelle and we were literally half way out the door when I turned and asked her where his clothes were that he was wearing when he came.

"Hmmm. Good question."

She went into the office to check for notes - none. We followed her back in where Cam was, and she walked right around, reached up where his legs were, and then pulled out this huge plastic bag containing all of his clothes. (Hey Rocky, watch me a pull a rabbit out of my hat. Nothin' up my sleeve!)

"I'm so sorry, this should have been given to you."

I watched as mum reached in and pulled the clothes out. When she got to the bright red hoodie she started crying. It was the hoodie she'd given him for his birthday just a month before, she'd been looking for it at his flat the day before and assumed he didn't like it because she couldn't find it.

"He liked it! He *did* like it!"

It was good that we got his clothes and saw him a second time and mum knows he liked the hoodie ... but it was all wrong.

Everything was wrong. Thank goodness for people like Anouk and Michelle to help guide people like us through the very worst times of our lives.

::

Previous Street Talks:

1. Noelene the Young
2. Megan the Mouse
3. Harpal the Australian
4. Darren the Artist
5. Jo the Interesting
6. John the Telstra Guy
7. Michael the Photographer
8. Peg the Lady
9. Jeff the Preacher Man
10. Andres the Cobbler
11. Honey the Prostitute
12. Mark the Masseur
13. You the Blog Reader
14. Jo the Podiatrist
15. Casey the Uni Student
16. Dream the Horse and Carriage Driver
17. Tamas the Hungarian Accordionist
18. The Dignified Trolley Ladies
19. Alex With The Studded Hot Pink Belt
20. Leaf The Fallen
21. Bel Of The Library
22. Jay And His Big Issue
23. Emma The Adult Shop Cashier
24. Teena, Saver Of Dogs
25. The Luna Park Face
26. Gary The Missing
27. Kristen at the Elephant Bean Cafe
28. Uncle Paul
29. Jess The Mama
30. The Two People At The Checkout
31. Alfie The Pourer
32. Breaking The Rules With Captain Starlight!
33. The Woman In Line At The Bakery A Few Weekends Ago
34. Dog The Dog
35. Julia Gillard The Person
36. Nancy The Badass
37. Bruce From The Psych Ward
38. Jeremy The Costumeless

Things I Stole.

Hey. I was at home with the two boys on the weekend.

Max went to a sleepover on Saturday which left just me and Rocco.

"Whose wallet is that?"

"It's Uncle Cams sweetheart."

"Oh, does he still need it?"

"No mate, he doesn't need it anymore."

While Rocco played Lego Batman I went through my brothers wallet. It felt really intrusive, but quickly I realised he'd cleaned it out before he died. All that was left was his drivers licence, and some cards for work. I scoured through it - and you know what I found? Right up in the top right hand corner, pressed all the way in .... A SIM CARD.

Held it out triumphantly, like a really fucked up game of Blues Clues. Alas, there would be no "clues" in his SIM card. This was not a treasure hunt.

There was also $200 in the wallet.

"Rocco, we're going out."

I took Rocco to Leura Lollie Shop where the lollies are yum and the prices aren't cheap. Then we went across the road for lunch at Zest, a friends cafe. Next door was Megalong Books, the BEST bookshop. I didn't get anything but Rocco is a reading machine at the moment and has been asking me for some chapter books. I bought him five, also that Dr Suess book about the boy who feeds his fish too much because I had it when I was a kid.

Then I bought some candles. And steak for dinner. I liked holding Cams wallet, using his money. Kind of felt like he was still in action.

We got home and I really studied this sideburn because this sideburn? Has powers that I steal from.

This sideburn has the power to make me get up, do things, arrange things, cook meals, water the garden, tell myself it's going to be ok even if I don't believe it, not for a second. Listen to reading that takes forty minutes, talk on the phone, clean the bathroom.

It's pretty powerful.

(I left about $55 in Cams wallet. For later.)

What We Found In The Garden.

Last week I took myself off to a nursery to buy some things to go in the veggie garden that Dave built.

It was heaven there. Just beautiful plants and shrubs and seeds, and people really passionate about it all. Picked Rocco up on the way home and told him we had some gardening to do.

"FINALLY MUM!"

Give that boy a job and he is happy as a pig in muck.

We laid cow poo and blood and bone and then planted all of our pretties. Rocco was very particular about where to put things, and so was I. We agreed to put herbs on one side, veggies on the other.

Cherry tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, strawberries, a big fuck-off pink flower, rosemary, chives, a curry plant, thyme.

A few of you mentioned that I get something to honour Cam, so I did. Such a beautiful idea.

A Camellia. Because it has his name in it. (I'm going to pot it because we don't own this house ... anybody have any Camellia suggestions? I really, really don't want it to die.)

Watering time.

I didn't get my hands dirty because of the fertiliser ... but I got my clodhopper feet dirty. You're right - it felt good, like I was connected to something.

The very next day, a box was left on my doorstep from my friend Ann.

Cuttings and pictures and plants ... it was so beautiful. (Thank you Ann.) She even left me a wee bag with "Love" written on it. What could be in such a bag?

Why, love of course. The only thing we need.

Telling.

Yesterday, Max asked me about Uncle Cam. Told me he just can't believe it, like it wasn't real. I agreed with him, said that's how I felt too. Both boys know Uncle Cam took his own life - Rocco found out accidentally, of course he just doesn't have the scope to properly understand it.

Max and I spoke about it for a while, he had a cry ... then in walks Rocco.

"MAX WHY ARE YOU CRYING?"

I told Rocco that Max was sad about Uncle Cam. Rocco said he was, too. I said to the boys if they ever have any questions, please ask me and I'll answer them.

Rocco shoots his hand up.

"Yes Rocco?" (DREADING.)

"Yeah I have a question. Like, are there really aliens? Like, seriously?"

Max and I laughed. SO hard. Rocco demanded to know and I said mate, I honestly don't know. He made his way outside, while Max and I finished talking.

We found him dangling from Daves exercise trainer over the trampoline with a piece of bread in his mouth. Not a care in the world.

Eraser.

The very first photo of us together. Me in year three, wearing a green t-shirt and blue tracksuit top. Him in baby white, smiling because he recognised a kindred.

This post is shit already. If anybody has a problem with me talking inappropriately about suicide, I ask you, is suicide appropriate? When is the appropriate time?

Dentist: 9.30
Lunch meeting
Dry cleaners
Suicide 4pm

Why do we not talk about suicide much?

"Hey  how you doin' today?
"Actually quite suicidal thanks for asking."

The suicidal among us don't like to admit that we're suicidal because we're scared of getting locked up, scared of stigma and shame, scared of what people will say or think. You know why I was in the mental health ward at Katoomba this year? Twice? Suicidal. Most people in there are. And now here I sit drinking a fucking latte and my brother's dead because he killed himself early morning three weeks ago on Tuesday, 15th October 2013. He didn't want to get help. He didn't want medication. He didn't want to go in anywhere.

Cam told me the internet was a bad place for people who want to die. He said there were so many options for painless suicide. He talked to me frankly because that's how we always talked to each other. We were friends - really fucking good friends. <-- right then when I wrote that sentence? I got up from my chair howling, pacing the room in a circle with my hand on my hip like I was in labour. Death labour.

He was so fucking smart. And funny. And gorgeous. And talented. And lived with an ache inside him since his father killed himself 25 years ago. I keep thinking, well I'm still living Cam you prick. I've entered the anger stage, which gets briefly washed away by missing and grief and yearning for him so bad. The people I love, in order: My two boys, Dave, Cam.

Cam hired a large cylinder of nitrogen which he kept in his Sydney flat for about a month. Gas mask, long hose, clips. He was also going to work, doing Crossfit, seeing his best mates, and bought a nice car. The suicidal among us, scurrying, still living, still deciding.

A few days before he did it I finally got hold of his friends who'd see him often. I was so worried. I knew there was a very big chance he was going to do it. But the same could be said of me at varying times in my life, you know? All I think now is. "You knew you knew you knew."

I've talked him out of it before. Guess I couldn't this time. That last weekend I kept waking up thinking he was dead, so I'd text him about some dumb tv show and when he text me back I was relieved. Momentarily. He kept calling me "Eden" when he only ever called me "Eed."

I should have driven down to his flat and barged in and done something. Nobody can tell me any different at the moment. Maybe in time that will fade .... but in time, HE will fade. It hurts so much I can't stand it. It burns. The more you love someone, the more it burns.

I keep going through my head how he would have done it - laid the tarp down, then his pillow, turned the gas on, laid down, and put his gas mask on. Pure nitrogen tricks the body, because we all have nitrogen in us. So there's no fighting. It takes three seconds to render a person unconscious, one minute to kill. Apparently there's a chance that right before death the person feels an overwhelming sense of euphoria. I hope so. I hope he left earth with a big fat massive boner.

Cam murdered himself. Extinguished. Euthanized. Fucked off. He gave us all the finger with a 'seeya cunts I'm outta here.'

And I completely understand.

The first sentence of his suicide note -

"Eden .... well, this was not totally unexpected."

No. BECAUSE I KNEW.

I took a photo of the tarp and tank. I took a photo of him in the morgue. And I don't give a shit how inappropriate those things are. I look at them to try somehow get it in my head that he is gone.

I taught Cam how to write his name. And now with all these meetings with my legal people, dissolving and dividing Cams assets, I'm helping him erase it. Death is everywhere but we don't seem to talk about it.

I stand at my sons school and I am the recovering alcoholic drug addict with three dead dads, bipolar II, and my brother just killed himself hi nice to meet you.

It's beyond a joke. It's easy for me to slip into "nothing is real." (Because it's not.)

The very last photo of us together, taken on Fathers Day 2013. (I'm never celebrating Fathers Day again.) Me 41, wearing a black top and my convict scarf. Him 33,  in one of his good shirts and pants. Talked non-stop for almost five hours, just outside here on the back deck. He came up to say goodbye. I knew it then and I know it now.

Both smiling because we recognised a kindred.

Rocco Gets New Wheels.

I posted last week asking for advice on what I can do with Rocco. I'm not sure if he's being especially demanding or I just can't handle being a mum properly at the moment. Probably a little of both. I can't WAIT to see my boys after school because my whole world lights up again, but soon I'm feeling overwhelmed and counting down until bedtime. There were some great suggestions, thank you. Cooking with him, sitting down with a cuppa while just watching him do something, the park, reading. Vicki from Flying Penguin Toys emailed me and said she'd send me something for Rocco to do.

Yesterday a big package arrived from Flying Penguin. We were all home and I said Rocco mate, this is for you!

He opens it up, SO excited. Takes one look and says:

 "That's not a toy."

                                           RoloBox ... just add a box and some imagination.

Dave said mate, it is a toy. Wait til you see what a cardboard box can turn into. Rocco walked off.

"Next time can I get a real toy please?"

Um, how about a big fat jar of NOTHING, son?

This morning at 7am there was big commotion. I came out to find these two hard at work.

"Mum look how cool it is!"

And off he went. Dave used a really thick and sturdy cardboard box. Rocco LOVES it.

He's zooming around all of his superheroes, also the 1970s Fisher Price Campervan I had when I was his age. Rocco said he can't wait to play with it after school (Hallelujah!). He told me he wants to take some cicadas for a ride. I'll be staying inside.

This isn't a sponsored post. Vicki from Flying Penguin took out an ad in my sidebar and posted me the wheels of her own accord. At this point, I'm just so grateful that anybody wants to advertise with me at all, considering what's going on. I don't want to write heavy blog posts every day, even though that's how I feel. I hate days and just want to be in bed all the time. But I think I should at least try to balance things out, write a bit of light. We probably could all use a little more light.

Flying Penguin Toys are AMAZING. You can buy online or at their shop in Newtown. Definitely something fun and engaging for any children in your life, leading up towards Christmas.

Things I Stole From Him.

Four really cool white Ikea chairs.

One Queen-sized bed.

One dirty navy Deus t-shirt with amazing colours. I smell it every night.

One bottle Davidoff cologne, half-used. (Which I'll spray on the t-shirt once it's lost its smell.)

Kitchen items for the holiday house.

Neon workgear for Dave.

His big container of ashes. I don't know how we're ever going to let them go.

One smaller container of ashes to always keep. (Mum has one too.)

One black pen. Nothing remarkable about it - probably made in China. Just a bit of ink and plastic. Shipped in a container around the world to Australia, driven in a truck to some newsagent or small goods shop. Then one day Cam walks in, picks it out, buys it. Takes it home to write his suicide note.

His mug. I cast my eyes around his bedroom and his bathroom and his kitchen ... up high there was just one lonely cup, which I took. We all took his shit, as reminders and remainders. I brought the cup home and put it straight up where my very special cups go.

The cup was dirty. I made tea in it, saw the rings inside and the drop he left on the outside.

I drank my tea out of his dirty cup. Communion. Then I put the dirty cup in the dishwasher, getting it out once to look at this little trace of him.

When the cycle finished the cup was clean as a whistle. Everything gone, even all the rings inside.

Fuck I cried.

Because that's what happens after someone dies ... slowly, their traces, their essence, their DNA, gets wiped out.

Then I realised he's my brother. We're related - his DNA is IN me. And my children, my sisters, my mother. We'll all always carry some Cam around. And that's the most comforting thing I've felt since he died.

My brother died? It's not fair. But nothing ever is.

Street Talk: Jeremy The Costumeless

It was Halloweeen yesterday. I used to be *so* bah humbug about it but a certain Rocco fell absolutely in love with it. What my kids love, I'll do. He wore a simple Spiderman suit. I asked him if he wants to go as Dracula?

"No."

What about a ghost?

"No"

Ok how about a SCARY Spiderman, with blood and fangs?

"NO."

Spiderman it was. Now all we had to do was knock on strangers doors and wait for them to give us food. Because that's normal!

                               This is basically how he walked the whole way. 

"A MUESLI BAR YUCK I HATE MUESLI BARS."

At 6pm we bid goodbye to Roccos gorgeous friend who went as the Gruffalo and his mum. Driving home, we saw a pack of boys sitting down eating their treats, realised it was Max and all of his mates. Year six-ers, such big guys now. I told Max to come home soon, and when he did he told me this.

"Mum, there was like, seven of us trick or treating and getting so many lollies. When we sat down on the grass to eat some, we saw Jeremy from our school. He's fourteen ... he's a bit, like, slow or something. Anyway he hardly had ANY lollies and said to us how hard it was. When he walked off I jumped up and told the guys to give him some lollies. I called him back and we all TOTALLY filled his bag. He didn't even have a costume. He said thank you so much, and walked off. We all said how good it felt, to do that."

One of the biggest things I love seeing in children is empathy. I gave Max a hug and he was all, oh don't cry again mum! But I told him don't worry, it was happy tears because I was so proud of him and his friends.

::

Previous Street Talks:

1. Noelene the Young
2. Megan the Mouse
3. Harpal the Australian
4. Darren the Artist
5. Jo the Interesting
6. John the Telstra Guy
7. Michael the Photographer
8. Peg the Lady
9. Jeff the Preacher Man
10. Andres the Cobbler
11. Honey the Prostitute
12. Mark the Masseur
13. You the Blog Reader
14. Jo the Podiatrist
15. Casey the Uni Student
16. Dream the Horse and Carriage Driver
17. Tamas the Hungarian Accordionist
18. The Dignified Trolley Ladies
19. Alex With The Studded Hot Pink Belt
20. Leaf The Fallen
21. Bel Of The Library
22. Jay And His Big Issue
23. Emma The Adult Shop Cashier
24. Teena, Saver Of Dogs
25. The Luna Park Face
26. Gary The Missing
27. Kristen at the Elephant Bean Cafe
28. Uncle Paul
29. Jess The Mama
30. The Two People At The Checkout
31. Alfie The Pourer
32. Breaking The Rules With Captain Starlight!
33. The Woman In Line At The Bakery A Few Weekends Ago
34. Dog The Dog
35. Julia Gillard The Person
36. Nancy The Badass
37. Bruce From The Psych Ward