Continueing with Six Feet Under:
Every episode begins with the Fisher’s (sorry, that’s the name of the funeral home, Fisher and Sons) client for that episode dies. It’s not uncommen, then, for the person spread out on the embalming table to wake up and talk to one of the main characters and help them work through whatever life struggles they’ve got going on in that episode. I think it’s an effective and interesting gimmick replacing the recorded voice-over of the the character’s thoughts going through their head…
Nathanial Fisher, the father that died in a car wreck in the first episode, pops up and talks to various “live” characters on a regular basis. The last episode that Holly and I watched played out a year later in time since the Christmas dad died. Throughout the course of that episode, each member of the family conversed with the dad about the last time they saw him alive.
I know from personal experience that the dead tend to show up for a long time. This coming February mark 11 years that my own dad passed away. He just didn’t wake up one Sunday morning. We’re pretty sure it was a stroke.
I don’t remember why, but we couldn’t have the funeral until pretty late in the week like Thursday or Friday. I was in college at the time, barely married 6 months, and hadn’t spent that much time in my home town for quite awhile.
Dad showed up a lot that week. There were a lot of people in and out of our house that whole week. Lots of friends and relatives stopped in and offered their love and support and expressed how much they were going to miss Dad a long with us. I remember all these people sitting around our living room and everytime I’d hear the front door start to open, the thought would flash through my mind before I could stop it: “Oh good. Dad’s finally home…” Then, when the door opened, it would just be another friend/mourner to add to our number.
After the funeral, he kept showing up a lot. The strongest was a couple of weeks after Holly and I got home when we went to our first Murder Mystery Party. My dad had always loved Sherlock Holmes and used to watch all those murder shows on TV like, Murder, She Wrote, Father Dowling, Quincy Adams, etc. So, he kept tickling my ear all night long about how much he would have enjoyed this little game. Then, to top it all off, I figured out the mystery! (If you’ve ever been to a murder party, you know that they’re usually so ludicrous and stupid that it’s almost impossible to actually figure out the final story.) The whole way home, all I wanted to do was call my dad and tell him about the game and brag to him that something about watching those mystery shows on TV must have sunk into my psyche.
My dad’s funeral happened just a month before my very first recording became available. He never heard any of it. I’ve released 5 albums of my own and have produced a number of albums for other artists. With every one, I so wish to show it off to my dad.
When he died, I had no idea what my life was going to be like, or what my career was going to be. I knew I wanted to write and sing, but I had no idea I’d actually make a bunch of records for myself and others. I had no idea I’d end up producing for other people. These are all things that I want to tell him. I want him to be proud of me. I want him to be impressed with my knowledge of computers and recording and music and songwriting.
Mostly, I’d just like to tell him about it. But the ghost that haunts me, while present, doesn’t talk back like the ghosts on six feet under.