Read Online Violence by Timothy McDougall - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Timothy McDougall
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wanted to see something like that again, especially with someone he knew. It wasn’t that he was particularly squeamish but that it confirmed the meaninglessness of life and his cynicism wasn’t a flattering trait. He was smart enough to know that.
He didn’t know what had ever happened with the investigation. The Military Claims Act imposes serious obstacles to a wrongful death lawsuit. Maybe the parents received some settlement. It just made Anderson feel sadder to think about it. Money would be no comfort.
The big question for Anderson was why he was thinking about this now? Why was this Army experience invading his thoughts? Maybe this was another self-preservation instinct to keep him from thinking of his complicity, his contribution to Karen and Tristan’s demise because that was all he could reflect on - why this, why that. Why didn’t he stay home and protect them? Why wasn’t he more forceful in his personality, teaching them that there is real evil in the world, to recognize it as such? Why didn’t he insist on putting in that elaborate home alarm system over their objections? Why, and this is most important, why did he escalate a bad situation, turning it into a confrontation when he could have let those guys finish out their work for the day and quietly let his friend who hired them tell them later he had other jobs for them to do in other places? The “whys” were endless and felt like cross-fibers in a tightening noose around his neck.
Maybe his helping the kid’s family then was giving him the wisdom, the knowledge to take care of his loved ones now. Anderson sided with the Jewish faith that it was really a selfish exhibition to embalm. True, it would hide a lot of the evisceration, allow for an open casket, at least on Tristan. Karen would take major reconstruction to permit even a limited viewing. But it was simply a way to keep a loved one around for as long as possible. Not let go. Injecting them. Spraying them. Coloring them. It would be just another invasion of their privacy. That was over. You are supposed to recall them in their vitality. He was going to remember them for the good and powerful radiance they brought to this grey place.
Anderson could see the flash of dejection on the funeral director’s face earlier when he said he didn’t want them embalmed. There would be a sizable charge. The funeral director’s spirits rose, though, when Anderson mentioned wanting to get Karen and Tristan a mausoleum crypt. There probably was a referral fee the funeral director would get with the memorial park. Karen and Tristan would be upset with Anderson for thinking like this, even if it was accurate. Let people cheat a little if they have to, they would say, but his way of thinking was… dammit, he had to STOP THINKING!
He had slept on the sofa at his office the last two nights. If he got a half hour of real sleep he’d be surprised. It was solely just staring into space and willing time on the LED display of the clock radio to move forward. He knew the greatest danger now was to let depression pull him into the abyss like claws reaching up from the earth. When Joyce came to work, he startled her as she put her key to the office lock. He’d pulled the sofa against the entrance and when she tried to no avail to push the door open, he just mumbled something to her about her taking some time off. He could hear her weeping as she returned to her car.
Roman left a message on his cell phone after a couple of tries to reach him directly but Anderson wouldn’t answer. Roman said how sorry he was and assured Anderson that he would keep the job sites moving, and he, Anderson, didn’t even have to ask.
Standing there now in the funeral home receiving room, every fiber of Anderson’s being wanted to hold on to Karen and Tristan for as long as possible, their physical beings, but they weren’t coming back. Their bodies had been kept refrigerated most of the time but, considering the violence that
He didn’t know what had ever happened with the investigation. The Military Claims Act imposes serious obstacles to a wrongful death lawsuit. Maybe the parents received some settlement. It just made Anderson feel sadder to think about it. Money would be no comfort.
The big question for Anderson was why he was thinking about this now? Why was this Army experience invading his thoughts? Maybe this was another self-preservation instinct to keep him from thinking of his complicity, his contribution to Karen and Tristan’s demise because that was all he could reflect on - why this, why that. Why didn’t he stay home and protect them? Why wasn’t he more forceful in his personality, teaching them that there is real evil in the world, to recognize it as such? Why didn’t he insist on putting in that elaborate home alarm system over their objections? Why, and this is most important, why did he escalate a bad situation, turning it into a confrontation when he could have let those guys finish out their work for the day and quietly let his friend who hired them tell them later he had other jobs for them to do in other places? The “whys” were endless and felt like cross-fibers in a tightening noose around his neck.
Maybe his helping the kid’s family then was giving him the wisdom, the knowledge to take care of his loved ones now. Anderson sided with the Jewish faith that it was really a selfish exhibition to embalm. True, it would hide a lot of the evisceration, allow for an open casket, at least on Tristan. Karen would take major reconstruction to permit even a limited viewing. But it was simply a way to keep a loved one around for as long as possible. Not let go. Injecting them. Spraying them. Coloring them. It would be just another invasion of their privacy. That was over. You are supposed to recall them in their vitality. He was going to remember them for the good and powerful radiance they brought to this grey place.
Anderson could see the flash of dejection on the funeral director’s face earlier when he said he didn’t want them embalmed. There would be a sizable charge. The funeral director’s spirits rose, though, when Anderson mentioned wanting to get Karen and Tristan a mausoleum crypt. There probably was a referral fee the funeral director would get with the memorial park. Karen and Tristan would be upset with Anderson for thinking like this, even if it was accurate. Let people cheat a little if they have to, they would say, but his way of thinking was… dammit, he had to STOP THINKING!
He had slept on the sofa at his office the last two nights. If he got a half hour of real sleep he’d be surprised. It was solely just staring into space and willing time on the LED display of the clock radio to move forward. He knew the greatest danger now was to let depression pull him into the abyss like claws reaching up from the earth. When Joyce came to work, he startled her as she put her key to the office lock. He’d pulled the sofa against the entrance and when she tried to no avail to push the door open, he just mumbled something to her about her taking some time off. He could hear her weeping as she returned to her car.
Roman left a message on his cell phone after a couple of tries to reach him directly but Anderson wouldn’t answer. Roman said how sorry he was and assured Anderson that he would keep the job sites moving, and he, Anderson, didn’t even have to ask.
Standing there now in the funeral home receiving room, every fiber of Anderson’s being wanted to hold on to Karen and Tristan for as long as possible, their physical beings, but they weren’t coming back. Their bodies had been kept refrigerated most of the time but, considering the violence that
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