Via Instapundit, I happened upon a piece about a random old guy who died a random old death.
And it took me back to something that happened to me when I was Mr. Suburban Man.
When I was married with one small child, we had a house in a Detroit suburb. It was my all-time favorite house, really, though just a much-modified tract house in a low-rent neighborhood. My next-door neighbor was an old guy. He was much like I privately expected to be in about forty years. He was a widower, lived alone, had no contact with his kids…
And then one day he just stopped. His minivan was in the garage, but I didn’t see him in his yard. We used to talk over the fence, but that wasn’t happening. Garbage day came and went, and his bins didn’t make it to the curb.
Wife and I discussed it. “He’s dead in there, you know,” she said.
Yeah, I knew. But it wasn’t her job to go make sure of that.
So I jimmied a window and broke into his house. Looking back on it all these years later, it’s almost funny that that was the hardest part of it – your property is yours, and I won’t violate it no matter what. I had the hardest time breaking into this old guy’s house, even though I knew he was either dead inside or badly needed someone to do what I was doing. Finally I got past it and broke into the damn house.
Yeah, he was very dead. At the toilet, as it happened, and a less dignified way to be found dead, I really can’t imagine. I called the cops.
And then I called one of his offspring, and that’s when the really bad stuff happened. It didn’t come as a big surprise – less to the wife – that this poor old guy wasn’t actually his kids’ favorite person. Be that as it may, I decided it wasn’t right that they should need to deal with what he had left in that bathroom. So I went back inside and cleaned up the mess.
Ever see what a mess a large carcass can make of a small room, given time? Especially when it’s been upside-down for a few days? Yeah. And then there’s the smell…
Funny how it all comes back. I’ve killed and butchered any number of animals no smaller than that old guy, but this was completely different.
I couldn’t work for a medical examiner’s office.
Bless you Joel, for that corporal act of mercy.
You are a good man Joel, that was a tough thing to do.
We had a property in San Juan. It was a vacant lot being leased by dipshits who could never get it developed. Some guy parked a brand spanking new Southwind motorhome on it, wrote out a “goodbye cold cruel world” note and shot himself. He managed to flop over headfirst into the footwell at the door. It was Summer, the RV sat for several days until someone got curious and went to get a peek. The odor told them all they’d need to know if they didn’t see the gooey reddish black shit seeping under the door.
This was back in the mid 80s. Not so many regulations then. Gates was the Sheriff, he was a buddy of my dad’s. He told Pop he could have the RV if he wanted it once the investigators has gotten done puking in it……I hope he was joking, I’m not sure he was. I was there about an hour after they first opened the door and the dude splashed out onto some poor SOB’s shoes. The smell was unbearable from 50 feet away.
I’d find myself with that odor a again a few times. Sadly, that’s not the worst intensity I have had to deal this regarding that aroma.
About 5 years after I got home from Nam, I was working at a civilian corporate headquarters on the banks of the Willamette River in Portland Oregon. One morning as I was walking toward the building from the employee parking lot I smelled that familiar sweet/sour reek.
I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I didn’t mention it to anyone.
Late that afternoon we received word that the police had recovered a body from the banks of the river. It was a suicide jumper from one of the bridges spanning the river.
I probably should have said something, but it was already too late to make a difference.
And yes, that is the most easily distinguished smell possible. It’s nothing like the stench of a cow or other ‘crittter’ that dies in the open and rots.
We do know our own, and we never forget it after we’ve been introduced to the distinctive aroma of a dead human.
On the other hand, I’ve passed a few pan-handlers in the streets who carried almost the same smell. They’re dead, they just don’t know it yet. I’m not sure which is the worst.
It takes a special person to do as you did.
gfa
“It takes a special person to do as you did.”
Amen to that. I can’t imagine going back into that house to clean up the leavings of a decomposing corpse. Unless there were some really compelling circumstances. You’re a better man than I, for sure.