In search of the lost and the dead

There is nothing erotic about a naked body when it’s dead. Deprived of life there is nothing sexual about it, it is cold, grey, nothing.

I still remember the horror of my first find. It was trapped in a clump of weeds at the bottom of the river by the bridge. I assumed it must be Suzie, that it was exactly what I’d been searching for all these months, my wife’s body. I hacked the body free and swam up with it to the surface.

It was only when I’d managed to drag it to the shore that I realised it was someone else.

I cried with relief, then with renewed grief, knowing that my search wasn’t over.

I have the same dance of emotions every time I find a body. My count’s up to seventeen now. The emotional rollercoaster doesn’t change in pattern, but with experience I’ve become more nimble, a wriggle my through the emotional jungle with ease. Grief, relief, renewed grief, and relax.

Most of the seventeen have been by the bridge. IDS Falls they call it locally, it’s opposite the Benefits Office you see, people find out they’ve had their income stopped, cross over the road and leap into the water.

I still haven’t found her, but I still search every day, all along the river.

In part my daily search fills the gap she’s left in my life, the daily routine of donning wet suit, 45 minutes underwater and then changing, drying-out.

Though I haven’t found her, I provide a genuine social service. I’ve helped seventeen other families. I’ve been to all the funerals, I’m still in touch with some of them. We share a common bond, we know what it's like to lose someone in this way.

My friends tell me I should give up, that I'll never find Suzie now. But IDS Falls shows no sign of drying up, I’ll be busy for years yet.