Here are the words I said at the multimedia performance of Last Breath / Heartbeat at the Showroom gallery
When my dad took
I stood up. Put my hand on his chest.
Cos his Heart.
Is Beating. Fast. And Strong.
Keeping going. Keeping going.
Somehow. I’ve made. A terrible mistake.
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)