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I was reminded again this weekend of the way death comes seemingly out of nowhere to shatter relationships new and old. A friend of mine in another state was participating in a serial transport of a rescued dog from the shelter where it was first found to its future home, some two thousand miles away. The puppy stayed at her house overnight, and the next day she drove it to the next person in the chain. The person set off…and she and the puppy were killed in a weather-related road accident. You can read about it on my friend’s blog, which includes a beautiful tribute to the remarkable woman who was killed. Please do, in fact.
It’s not only the bad people who die…and the good people who die of disease often give us time to prepare (not happily, but with the chance to say “I love you” a few more times.) The sudden, unexpected deaths of those who are clearly good people hurts. Our world is diminished.
The writer who wants to tell a story with some depth to it is faced with the need to include pain and loss in that story. It need not (for my mind should not) be all about pain and loss, unless the writer’s capable of creating true tragedies, in which the reader experiences that pity and awe Aristotle talked about. Something (if only the reader’s catharsis) needs to come out of the pain.
Death is not the only pain available to the writer, of course. But death digs deeper into the reactions of the other characters and the writer (and later, the reader.) What the writer needs to be aware of are the nuances in reaction to the different kinds and situations of death. The “senseless” death–like that of Catherine and the puppy on the icy road near Tucumcari–is different from the willing sacrifice of a Sergeant Vardan in combat–or the death of Kieri’s predecessor king in Lyonya, of incurable illness.
More than I realized when I started it, this set of books concerns itself with change and transformation. Our main POV characters started with a great midlife change–Arcolin, Dorrin, Kieri all had a major life-change forced on them. So did the secondary, tertiary and minor characters around them. Deaths–both actual and symbolic–have continued to transform the entire cast of characters, putting them into new configurations, where we see other sides of their characters.
Sometimes a character puts on a “red shirt” (Star Trek attire for someone on the away team who’s going to be dead pretty soon.) The writer one of whose favorites–someone the writer had planned to use even more in subsequent volumes–puts on a red shirt has a terrible dilemma. Killing off favorite characters isn’t popular, and has been overused by some writers as a cheap way of forcing tension. Will this one die too? How about the next?
But there’s X, whose red shirt is glaring at the writer even as the writer tries to convince X (behind the scenes) not to do this. “C’mon, you’re well-loved, everybody likes you…don’t do anything stupid. We NEED you.” And the character sits there, arms folded, red shirt bright as blood, and says nothing.
The writer can sometimes negotiate a delay. Not this volume, but the next. Or the one after that. The character may consent to have his/her death pushed back a volume. But at some point the writer gives up and admits that X is in fact going to die in this story. How? Well…X is X, with his/her own fan club, practically. Random death will not do: no rocks falling out of the sky onto his/her head. Stupid death will not do: no absent minded mixing up of the rat poison with the vitamin pills. It’s time for another long interview with the character. “You’re not stupid, X. And the book has its requirements, too. You’re wearing the red shirt; I get that. So–show me how it goes. I’ll put it in where it fits the book best.”
Then the writer writes the scene, cries for awhile (well, this writer does) and eventually finds the right place to put it in the book.
Sudden, unexpected, undeserved. and unwanted death still has to come into the story. Maybe not rocks from the sky, but sickness, accidents, random malicious acts. It may be possible to give perceptive readers a hint that someone is wearing a red shirt and it’s only a matter of time…(not always, but maybe) but the “out of the blue” hits have to come out of the blue.
Like Catherine’s. Like the puppy’s. Leaving bystanders (and readers, and often the writer) stunned and uncertain where to go from here.
The day after Catherine’s death on the road, I was driving home from church in the same weather pattern that had by then moved east enough. Came out into sleet, then sleet and rain, then sleet and snow, then snow, including a brief encounter with foggy-icy stuff. Thinking of Catherine and the storm, I was as careful as possible and got home safely, having found (and only with one tire) only one icy place on the road. I was aware the whole day of danger, though, and the possibility that I, too, could be dead in a moment. (And aware that we are all closer to our deaths than we were yesterday. And for some of us, growing older, it feels a lot closer than it did a year ago. The freezing fog and the black ice could be over that next ridge.)
It’s Valentine’s Day. Go hug somebody. (Me for a chocolate truffle and then going out to make use of the sunshine. Lots of work to do, but I really need to be outdoors for an hour.)
Comment by s.e. — February 14, 2012 @ 10:52 am
How sad, that pup looks a lot like our big boy who is 5 years old now. He was a rescue pup, lucky to born after his mom was given up to a shelter so that her pups (11 and a first litter!!!) were born in a healthy clean, loving foster home.
One of the things I hate about winter is dangerous driving conditions. my dd and I are making heart shaped brownies this afternoon.
Comment by Adam Baker — February 14, 2012 @ 4:27 pm
I’m so very sorry to hear about the passing of your friend.
I lost a friend about 2 weeks ago. I’d worked w/ him for about 18 months at the job I left in December. He was 22 years old, and just an active cheerful person, so it was definitely a very sad day when I found out about his passing. He died b/c he hit a vehicle that had broken down in the road that he wasnt able to avoid.
Any death hurts, but its definitely the sudden ones that hurt more. When you leave someone, you always want to say “See you next time” or “See you later”, never “Good Bye” b/c you never know if it really will be Good Bye, never having a chance to see them again.
Like you said,
Comment by Daniel Glover — February 14, 2012 @ 7:29 pm
I guess I learned this lesson early. We lost thirty (30) kids out of my high school (1200 in the building anyone year–2000 over five years) in the five year period centered on the year I graduated. Most to automobile accidents with a couple of illnesses and at least one dual hit-and-run thrown in. Each instance is different. Do be gentle with one another since my own reaction is not going to be exactly like anyone else.
Comment by elizabeth — February 14, 2012 @ 8:20 pm
I taught an emergency care class one year at the local high school–they were losing 30% of the graduating class (then very small–roughly 30) to trauma, mostly cars, between senior year and one year post-graduation. A lot of these were graduation night or the next day. Fights, drunk driving. In such a small town, that loss, year after year, tore families apart. Project Graduation helped.
Comment by Mary E Cowart — February 14, 2012 @ 11:38 pm
No matter the loss, it is heartwrenching. Whether it is a loss in an accident, to a life threatening illness, or to old age. A life threatening illness can happen at any age. Perhaps more often in old age, but not only in old age. My father died of Hodgkins Disease soon after his 40th birthday in 1953. He had been diagnosed approximately 7 years earlier. For that time he lived a remarkably long time. I at the time was nine; I knew he was dying. Even so death of anyone is hard for me to cope with. I value the time I did have with him.
God bless all who have had timely or untimely deaths strike their families. It is never easy, nor is it meant to be.
God bless the writers whose characters are taken before the writers or the readers want to let them go.
Love,
Mary
Comment by Rolv — February 15, 2012 @ 10:13 am
My deepest sympathies with you and with your friend’s family. I can imagine the shock and sorrow you all go through; my mother died in a car accident nearly thirty years ago, and touching that wound still hurts.
Love,
Rolv
Comment by elizabeth — February 15, 2012 @ 10:38 am
Um…apologies. Apparently I wasn’t clear enough. The woman who died was someone I had never met. Doranna is my friend, and had met Catherine only to hand over the puppy, but liked her and hoped to spend time with her later. The real shock of this hit Doranna and was relayed to her online friends, including me. This week, no friend of mine has died.
E.
Comment by Genko — February 15, 2012 @ 12:46 pm
Death is such a part of life, no matter how much we try not to see it or think of it. Sometimes it just hits us over the head — remember! And it is often heart-wrenching, as you say. Seems that there might be some purpose in it all, if only to help us wake up and remember.
Comment by Mollie Marshall — February 15, 2012 @ 4:34 pm
Spider Robinson has a song/poem (Evelyn’s Song, in Callahan’s Legacy) which includes the lines ‘Ain’t it something to learn / Even good people die?’. It’s not an easy lesson.
Those who live to a ‘ripe old age’ may still die before – in their own view – they are ready, but for their family and friends the life seems rounded and complete.
Untimely death, however, whether it be from illness or accident, is hard for a surviving partner to come to terms with. I’m not sure which is worse. A sudden death, when you have no chance to say goodbye, or an illness where you might face the disintegration of the personality you’ve known and loved for years?
Don’t be shy (even stiff-upper-lip British) about saying you love each other; don’t put off doing things till later – there might not be a later.
Comment by Jenn — February 16, 2012 @ 8:45 am
I read this blog yesterday and it made me think. I love it when that happens. Then this morning I came across this in my reading:
“We are born for immortality,and although faith tells us that it is not extinction, it is too much like extinction to let us feel comfortable about it.” — Ronald Knox
My life is surrounded by death. I work with the elderly in nursing home. It has become very familiar to me. Yet, when my mother was diagnosed in Oct with Stage 3 cancer (one of those nasty one branded the silent killer) in Oct it became much more real. Now even though she is responding well (so far) to treatment her mortality is ever before me. I know that even if cancer does not take her the face is that one day I will stand before her still body and have only my faith to tell me that this isn’t the end. I guess in a strange way this trail has been a gift to me. Doesn’t make it any easier though.