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20 December 2007 @ 01:10 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 209: Question 209  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 1082

What are you afraid of?

What am I afraid of? I am afraid of death, plain and simple. However, I only mean death in a particular way, not just, in general. I actually have no problem with death itself, the concept, the reality, even in some way the experience. The only fear I have about death, is that I will die, in some horrible accident, and my body will never be found. Which, is a reasonable fear, seeing as that’s how I lost my wife and my two children.

I have a remarkable respect for death in itself. As a Medical Examiner, I now deal with it every working day of my life. I am, in some ways, like a surgeon who operates on the living, and fails to ensure their survival, except, my patients, as it were, are always dead, and I am always telling parents, partners, families, friends, whoever turns up, that the body inside the morgue is indeed, their loved one. I am always the one showing the body and providing a comforting shoulder when it is identified. My role in comparison to this alternate, parallel surgeon is that I deal with death, and it is a good, but rare day for me, when one of my bodies is alive. I cannot say that I don’t deal with life, because, I do, in every aspect, really, deal with it, even though it is moreover, a past life, a life once lead that continues no more. I see dead people on my tables, and it is my job to see what killed them, to closely identify and examine their final moments, who they were, and, hopefully, aid in discovering who or what it was that caused their demise.

I know, a fear of dying in an accident and never having my body found is an irrational fear, in many ways, because I don’t have an extremely high chance of that happening to me. I am a middle aged, public servant, as it were, with a comfortable long lasting job, good pay, a good home, and a car that is safe to drive. I am not a soldier, so I don’t have a chance of being blown up to bits, and I do not test deadly weapons, deal with radioactive goods, and I definitely am not a secret agent with a death threat against him. Statistically, my chance of dying in an accident and never having my body found, are very slim. I try to think that, when the thought coils my stomach up in fear, but, sometimes it works, and, sometimes, it does not. It would be easier to believe it was an irrational fear, that could easily be put down to irrational worry, if my wife and children hadn’t died in the September eleven terrorist attacks. They never found their bodies, and, consequently, there are three empty graves that I visit once every week after church, but before lunch. I was there the day after it happened, I helped fight fires, and treat the injured. And even though it had been a day already, each person I helped, I still hoped the next one, the next three, would be my family, would be my loving wife and my two sons. That is why I fear this irrational mode of death, because that very kind of death took away my life and three of the people I loved the most in the world.

Fucks are cheap, and saying I love you can, last a lifetime in some circumstances, but the goodbyes I gave to my wife and children as they left on that fateful day to go to the end of their lives, were indeed forever. Sure, I do not fear much anymore, I mean, I heartily indulge, or have indulged in the past, in BDSM, voyeurism and swinging, and I have slept with woman who enjoy the feel of snakes and other creepy crawlies on their body. I have rational fears too, like the fact that I would indeed fear someone who pointed a gun at my head, and threatened to shoot it to kill me. I worry that what I eat, has something in it that will make me go into anaphylactic shock again, and no one, especially Stella, will be there to know what is going on with me, and why I can’t breathe properly. But, these fears, they are all fine and dandy, and they don’t, make no mistake, they don’t, rule my life. It is that select, irrational fear, of dying, horribly, and my body never being found, that lurks in the back of my mind, sometimes, when I get depressed, or terribly sad. It is the whispers of terror, pain and sadness that it tries to spread in my mind, that chill me to the core and bone, because, I know it can happen to me, and won’t, just happen to someone else, that isn’t me.

I miss Marianne, Michael and Christopher, I always will. I have the comfort that they are together in whatever afterlife they may have, or, possess, and I know that I’ll be with them someday. This thought, is not according to scriptures, or passages, or anything from the bible, really, at all. It is just something I know, and feel, even when I am drunk and stumbling down stairs, or when I am just, at work, with my fellow colleagues. I want to continue living, continue with life itself, for whatever time I have left. And when I die, I will die, and leave behind no regrets. For now, however, irrelevant of what may happen tomorrow, or today, I continued, onwards and upwards, in so many respects, because I have to keep living, moving, experiencing, all the world has to offer me. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be the person my wife loved and that my children cherished. Just because they are dead, I can’t stop being me, and I definitely, will never do such a thing. I need to be myself, because being myself, continuing to be, who I am, with all the predilections and associations my nature and person entails, keeps me going. I need to keep going, because I do not wish to end my life at my own hands, and because I enjoy what I have now, even if what I had in the past, which I treasured, is now gone. In the end, I am alive, and I am grateful for my life, and all that it contains.
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Current Music: The Battle - The Chronicles of Narnia: Original Soundtrack