Let's Talk About Death, Baby
Jan 7, 2010 by rilla
Rob sent me a book for Christmas called Bodies in Motion and at Rest: On Metaphor and Mortality by Thomas Lynch. I know. Nothing says, "MERRY CHRISTMAS" like a book of essay on what it's like to put the dead to rest. It fits my mood at the moment, though. I hate the hype and exploitation of celebrity deaths, but Brittany Murphy's recent death has been much on my mind of late. I think it's because she's the same age as I am, and because it feels as though she's been a part of my life. Watching Girl, Interrupted was somewhat of a ritual for me in my mid/late-twenties, as was watching Clueless in the years before. She did the voice of Luanne Platter in King of the Hill, and I watch and re-watch the seasons I have of that.
So, it feels weird. I feel some sort of need to mourn her, but at the same time, I've always looked snootily down my nose at people who get all emotionally attached to strangers, who happen to be famous. I've been re-watching those movies I have of hers, as a means of letting go, or whatnot, but it's a changed experience. Daisy's suicide in Girl, Interrupted, seeing her twisting from a noose in her bathroom, has always been horrific, but now it's almost... I don't know... sacrilegious? to see the dead pretending to be dead. And in Clueless, the makeover montage set to "I Want to be a Supermodel," just seems like cruel foreshadowing to the transformation of an actress who was healthy and curvy, to the emaciated figure she is now.
And I feel ashamed that I want to talk about her because her death should belong to the people she loved.
I've had loved ones die, and I used to get so angry when other people would talk about them with that sad note of regret in their voices. That voice in my head, the one that you're not supposed to say out loud, it would yell, "You didn't love them as much as I did, so what right do you have to pour your sadness out to me." And grief would quickly turn over to silent fury.
But this was supposed to be about the book that I'm reading, and I just went and got my neuroses all over this blog post, but this needs to come out too, so here it is.
So, it feels weird. I feel some sort of need to mourn her, but at the same time, I've always looked snootily down my nose at people who get all emotionally attached to strangers, who happen to be famous. I've been re-watching those movies I have of hers, as a means of letting go, or whatnot, but it's a changed experience. Daisy's suicide in Girl, Interrupted, seeing her twisting from a noose in her bathroom, has always been horrific, but now it's almost... I don't know... sacrilegious? to see the dead pretending to be dead. And in Clueless, the makeover montage set to "I Want to be a Supermodel," just seems like cruel foreshadowing to the transformation of an actress who was healthy and curvy, to the emaciated figure she is now.
And I feel ashamed that I want to talk about her because her death should belong to the people she loved.
I've had loved ones die, and I used to get so angry when other people would talk about them with that sad note of regret in their voices. That voice in my head, the one that you're not supposed to say out loud, it would yell, "You didn't love them as much as I did, so what right do you have to pour your sadness out to me." And grief would quickly turn over to silent fury.
But this was supposed to be about the book that I'm reading, and I just went and got my neuroses all over this blog post, but this needs to come out too, so here it is.
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I felt the same way about the funerals of my uncle and grandfather; furious that people who barely knew them were even there, let alone trying to offer condolences.
I'm glad that you received the book Rilla. It wasn't meant as a "Ha Ha...Death and Christmas: Together at last!" gift but was recommended to me by a woman in a book store. She said it was funny. I suppose this might have been a colossal misfire.
Well enjoy (if you can).
-Rob
Am I a bad person for actually being happy when Michael Jackson died?
Cori: I think I might have heard you talking about this somewhere else because I remember thinking, at the time, that I had reacted in similar ways myself.
Rob: It is funny, and I'm glad you got it. Don't fret about faux pas.
Cheruby: Yes.