Death, mid-coitus. What a way to go, eh?
At least, that was the general consensus after Mark died, after the dust settled and we permitted ourselves an uneasy laugh about it. Another of those placatory, consolatory observations humans make when they don’t know what else to do or say.
Apparently, every bloke wants to pop his clogs in the sack. (Although perhaps not at 37 years-old with a small child and everything to live for. But I’m willing to bet Hugh Hefner’s got his fingers crossed.)
But what about the woman (or man) who is left lying spread-eagled in the wet patch? Can the psychological trauma of such an event – a life-affirming, joyful act turning suddenly into one which represents death and fear – ever be overturned?
Because whilst watching your lover die is never going to be a fun-filled spectacle, feeling their warm, naked body against you one minute and then watching it turn cold just seconds later is up there in the Top Ten Things You Never Want To Have To Go Through In Life.
Sex becomes imbued with a kind of terror. You start to wonder who else you might see off with your thighs. Heavy breathing comes to signify a climax of a very different kind. Facial expressions are apt to be misread.
My counsellor and I talk through such things. But these are thoughts and images which cannot be erased.
So whilst dying mid-coitus might sound like the fun way to go, I can tell you this for nowt – it’s not.
13 thoughts on “Coitus interruptus”
I cannot even begin to imagine how traumatic an experience this must have been and the psychological scars it must leave. It’s one of those classic slapstick comedy ideas that no one can help sniggering at. Never is there any thought given, nor discussion made, of the one left behind. I hope your talks with the counsellor help, flashbacks of trauma are a whole bundle of no fun, but this takes it to a whole other level. Must definitely be one of the best ways to go though.
Hi there thanks so much for commenting – yes, it is definitely one of those comedy tropes – I vividly remember shortly after Mark died being at a party where this ‘funny’ guy was regaling everyone with his fantasies of dying between the legs of a beautiful, 18 yr old Brazilian goddess or something. If only he knew the reality! For her, anyway! X
While I don’t think watching our OHs die is on my top ten list of things to do again, I can’t imagine how it was for you being so intimately (in every sense of the word) involved. I know I relive G’s last hours over and over so I can only imagine what it must be like for you. Hope talking with your counsellor is helping, even if only a little. I do think most men would say it’s how they’d like to go, but then they wouldn’t be thinking about the partner they leave behind. Huge hugs and love xxx
No, I can’t imagine what is must be like watching your hubbie physically deteriorate over a period of time either. Not sure what’s worse. Both conjure up such painful images. Do you have a lingering last image of G’s face just after he died? I have one of Mark’s. Can’t get it out of my head. Etched on my brain. Love and hugs to you Fi. X
I do have a mental picture of him immediately he died, which is hard to remember. He died in hospital and, once the wonderful nurses did their stuff, I sat with him and that picture is nice to recall because he did look stereotypically peaceful! Unfortunately, the former pic is the one that most often comes to the fore. Typical. Why can’t our brains filter out the stuff we don’t want to remember? Hugs xx
I am so terribly sorry for the anguish and trauma you suffer, the awful irony of a most beautiful and intimate act of love that has left such a terrible and painful scar. perhaps it would help you to feel that Mark, more than anyone or anything that could be said or done, is somewhere close, still residing in your heart and all around you, pleading with the most earnest and enduring love, to help you through this devastating aftermath. death and how it happens is so random and often so very cruel. I hold a HUGE hope for you that by talking with your therapist and the act of writing this part of your story, you will somehow turn the tide of being plagued with a dreadful memory of something that was intrinsically loving towards more peacefulness. you deserve that, and the you and Mark that were so in love deserves that.
sending you many gentle hugs, and the light of love and hope to help you find your way,
What a beautiful and supportive comment Karen. I’m so pleased I’ve found you out there. I send you ‘the light of love’ too in the hope that you gain strength from it in the same way as I gain strength from you. Thank you again. X
When I was 10 years old my mother became a widow. We had lived with my late stepfather for 2 1/2 years but they had only been married for 6 months. He’d been unwell and they’d been to hospital but had been sent home and told to come back the next day. She told me that they’d been lying in bed together and he told her to get some rest. She nodded off and when she woke she knew he had passed because the bed was wet. As an adult that’s not something I would tell a 10 year old but my mother was, and continues to be, a unique individual. She didn’t witness his passing in the way you witnessed Mark’s but she did wake in that puddle. I think my grandmother would have been the one to wash the sheets and flip the mattress as she was there in the morning trying to comfort her daughter and protect her grandchildren ( a new mattress would not have been financially feasible) . Though the actual puddle was cleaned away my mother (and in part this is a result of her life path and choices) never really has been able to get completely dry.
I’ve reread this about four times. It makes my heart lurch. I love the way you describe her as a ‘unique individual’. And the way you desrcibe the puddle as never being completely dry. It sums it up really. I’d like to have met your mother. Sounds like quite a woman.Thanks for sharing this Lori. X
These are beautifully written and brutally honest. They give me a perspective I had not seen before and fill-in blanks about the random cruelty of life and ts following beauty.there is no pecking order but these help me understand the life events that a times undo me and remind me that there is a universality to the human condition. Thanks for your honesty.
Thank you so much for these wonderful words – I can only deal with this brutally and honestly, it is so brutal in itself I don’t know ow else to approach it. Writing about it and setting it free in this way is cathartic if nothing else. Thanks again.
Not quite the same thing, but my hubby died, erm, pleasuring himself. I was away for the week, and came home to find him lying on the floor, trousers down, with a porn video frozen on his computer screen (computer had locked up as he fell against it).
Definitely not an image I can get out of my head 😦
!!!! Speechless. I,m so sorry. But thanks for sharing your dreadful experience. X