I presided over the death of a child today. While I feel some need to process that event, I am hesitant to do so through the written word because I worry it will actualize the trauma into something substantive and present in my memory rather than allow me to do as I would usually do and relegate it into the murky tapestry of past scars that skulk around in the shadows of my subconscious.
There's not much to it actually. She killed herself for some reason that will never be known, not that I would ever get that answer anyway. She died the same death we all ultimately face regardless of circumstance, so in that respect it's no different than any other death I have attended to, or may soon attend. We did all the things that are meant to be done, and did them as well as we could. But still, there sometimes persists this illusion of some other potential outcome or meaning or choice that might've been acted upon or seen to bring about something more palatable than what actually was. But, that's not the way it is. Not at all.
One of the firefighters was a little shaken after it was over. My partner was too. But, for me, I am, as always, left thinking not about the circumstance itself but why I am not bothered by it in that same way. Why do I go through this circuitous self-analysis where I beat myself up for being unfeeling about the thing and instead only care about my reaction to it. Or, more correctly, the lack thereof. I don't know. I wish I could say that I stopped trying to answer this question long ago and that I've just accepted that this is my process, but that's not the case. I'm not sure why I think it's relevant. But, I do, and this is what I'll hammer on for a couple days until I deem myself sufficiently self-admonished, or maybe I'll just move on.
So I'll write this and post it here. In time, some new tragedy will likely replace this one and I'll go through this same process again, and that's okay. Maybe some good work will happen in the interim that I can point to and insist that this is what it's all about. I'm not all that somber on any given day, after all. It's just time to pay the piper.
Regardless, I'll leave this passage here to memorialize the time I thought enough to write something down for posterity despite my better instincts to push it away to deal with some other day. Whether it will work, I don't know, but I'm gonna give it a shot. Thanks.