this house of grief

This House of Grief by Helen Garner is a true story that chronicles the murder trial of Robert Farquharson, who is eventually charged for driving into a dam and drowning his three sons – Jai, 10, Tyler, 7, and Bailey, 2.

The minute I read the first few words of this book, I knew it was game over for me. I began this book with 0 empathy for Farquharson. I figured the book would just amplify and justify this deep anger that everyone must have felt for this man. Garner, however, is brilliant, kind, and the most empathetic of all. She chose to write this book by inserting herself into it, as a spectator and a member of the courtroom. This choice allowed me to navigate my feelings along with hers.

Because of Garner’s detailing of this macabre disaster, I was once again reminded that I must not embody such a black-and-white worldview. She allowed me to find my empathy again.

Initially, I was fueled with thoughts like:

  • “How can a parent even think of hurting their children?”
  • “He must be a psychopath.”
  • “Actually, he’s probably yet another angry man who didn’t know how to handle being rejected by a woman, so he chose violence.”

And then something shifted. As Garner recounted the witnesses’ testimonies, they all described Farquharson to be rather ordinary, even bland; he was a regular, boring guy, a “bloke,” who was trying to figure out how to make some money and was distraught when his wife asked for a divorce. I mean, he even held the door open for Garner at the committal hearing. A psychopath wouldn’t do that, right?

I was most compelled by his ex-wife, Cindy Gambino’s, confident belief that Farquharson did not and would not harm his children. Couple that belief with Gambino’s parents and with a whole bunch of people from the community who kept reiterating that Farquharson was a normal guy who showed up for his kids and would never harm them.

Before you even open the book, if you just google Robert Farquharson you know that he was found guilty, not once, but twice, and is still in jail for the murder of his three children. So you already know the outcome of the book, but you feel compelled to keep flipping the page and I credit Garner’s ability to empathize for this. She showed me that it’s not necessarily a matter of “did he do it or not?”; it’s more so a desire to want to know why because it is so unfathomable to us and almost makes us fear ourselves. Because if a regular, shemgular guy like Robert Farquharson can commit such a heinous act, then can’t we all?

I mean don’t we all, to some extent, have some sort of weird, little voice brewing inside of us? For some of us, it’s small and controlled. For others, it’s bigger and constant and it takes over. So are we really that different from Farquharson? If we were in a similar situation, would we hug our children and drown with them if we had run out of options? I sure hope so, but somehow I find myself questioning that. Are we really as “good” and “righteous” as we say we are? Or are we selective with our righteousness?

Garner ends the book with the following:

“Every stranger grieves for them. Every stranger’s heart is broken. The children’s fate is our legitimate concern. They are ours to mourn. They belong to all of us now.”

Those last few sentences sucker punched me in the gut. It woke me up out of my trance. I was so invested in trying to figure out if Farquharson intentionally killed his children that I had forgotten to mourn for the children. They died a painful death, thinking that they were safe in the company of their father.

They are ours to mourn. They do belong to all of us now.

Tuesdays with Morrie – a reflection

PC: Detroit Free Press

Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie is a beautiful, timeless, ever-relevant book in my opinion. The book chronicles the weekly (every Tuesday, hence the title) conversations that Mitch Albom had with his professor, Morrie Schwartz, who was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Morrie taught me a lot about death and how to approach life after having accepted death. In Morrie’s own words, “once you learn how to die, you learn how to live.”

Like quite literally anyone in my life, I too am deadly afraid death. I think about all my hopes, desires, people I love, and the stuff that I would miss out on. I end with the realization that I’m not ready yet. I need more time. On the other hand, Morrie, a man who struggled with a painful illness, made death sound almost friendly. He took away my fear from it.

One of the many things that scare me about death is being forgotten by my loved ones. I feel like this is a fear that many of us have, hence why we’re so hellbent on “leaving a legacy” by working so freaking hard, oftentimes only in our professional lives, to ‘be good enough’ to be known. When Morrie was asked if he shared that same fear of being forgotten once he passes, he explained that he isn’t because even though he isn’t present physically, he knows that the memory of him will continue to hold a special place in all of his loved one’s hearts. He wholeheartedly believed that “love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.”

After reading this book, which honestly felt more like a long wholesome conversation, I realized that I may be hiding behind love and chasing after time to potentially escape the fear of death. Love is meant to be empowering and something that motivates us to shine brighter. However, I feel like I’ve been using my love for myself and my people to feel like I can extend my lifespan. The book also made it clear that we’re desiring the wrong things in life. The money, status, power, materials won’t bring us anything when our time eventually comes. Love is the greatest entity of all and it’s going to be the greatest superpower of ours when we approach our passing.

I’d like to end with Morrie’s words:

“Don’t let go too soon, but don’t hold on too long.”