3. Heartbeat: the words

Here are the words I said at the multimedia performance of Last Breath / Heartbeat at the Showroom gallery

 

Heartbeat:

I knew

Straight away

When my dad took 

His LAST

BREATH. 

I stood up. Put my hand on his chest.

And now.

I’m confused.

Cos his Heart.

Is Beating. Fast. And Strong. 

Keeping going. Keeping going.

Somehow. I’ve made. A terrible mistake. 

Somewhere 

I find my stethoscope.

Sometime. Less than a million years ago. and more than a second later. I listen. 

And now. His heart. Isn’t beating at all. 

I kiss him. Kiss. His face. Hug him.

A great river of nonsense is dripping. Off my chin. Bunging up my nose. 

I lie down with my dad. Tell him.

How very very well he did. 

On his very very last black run. 

Tell him. How proud I am of him

Tell him. Everything I know. Everything I don’t know.

This. Is the first. AMAZING. Thing. In my Life  

That I won’t be able to tell my dad about.

 

There’s more here about the Heartbeat image – with its evocation of sound and light.

And check out the stories from before this  – of how my dad and I talked about his last skiing Black Run (1), and then he did some Deathbed Skiing (2).
From when I washed my dad’s body, there’s a Cycle of Life image and words (4) 

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