Post by marionk on Dec 8, 2016 7:05:18 GMT
I quite like a good whodunnit or random historical mystery, but every so often a real life, present day one grabs my attention, and then it's not such fun.
The last one I remember was an old guy with dementia, last seen getting on a bus. That was pretty obviously going to have a sad ending, and it didn't take much to realise he probably hadn't got far out of the local area. It was just a matter of time, and they'd find the poor guy's body out in a field in the middle of nowhere, and a few weeks later, they did.
Sometimes though, it's a really big, shocking thing, like a plane crash, and at the time I either figured out what happened in an instant, or figure 'they' are bound to find it any day now, and forget all about it, until it pops back into the news. This is the point at which it really grabs my attention, and I can't let it go until I figure it all out. I'm like 'what the H!? How the heck have they not found it yet?'
I then go into hyperfocus on it, and sometimes it's so obvious, that the real mystery is not what happened, so much as, why are they pretending they don't know what happened. When there are deaths involved, a major motive is, obviously, avoiding responsibility, but once in a while there is something both dark and humanitarian that has triggered a major cover-up. Something so awful that the people affected, or the general public, would not really want to know, and I wish I hadn't worked it out too . . .
This current one is very like that, only it's not a bunch of random foreigners on the other side of the world, it's very, very close, and it involves a family not so different from mine.
I'm trying to convince myself that I'm wrong, (and this time it's possible I am wrong, as I can't find proof positive), but it's that same lack of clarity in the information made available, that made me realise that it's all smoke and mirrors.
Taking a step back, I think my problem is that I identify too much with the family, without really knowing them. I can't actually decide, even if it was my family, would I actually want to know, if it's as awful as I suspect, or would I be so desperate to know what really happened that it wouldn't matter how awful it was.
On second thoughts, knowing how I can't move on from something until I have worked it out, I would have to know the truth, no matter how awful. But it's not me. It's someone who, for all I know, desperately needs to hang on to the idea that their loved one is still alive and will come home one day.
The last one I remember was an old guy with dementia, last seen getting on a bus. That was pretty obviously going to have a sad ending, and it didn't take much to realise he probably hadn't got far out of the local area. It was just a matter of time, and they'd find the poor guy's body out in a field in the middle of nowhere, and a few weeks later, they did.
Sometimes though, it's a really big, shocking thing, like a plane crash, and at the time I either figured out what happened in an instant, or figure 'they' are bound to find it any day now, and forget all about it, until it pops back into the news. This is the point at which it really grabs my attention, and I can't let it go until I figure it all out. I'm like 'what the H!? How the heck have they not found it yet?'
I then go into hyperfocus on it, and sometimes it's so obvious, that the real mystery is not what happened, so much as, why are they pretending they don't know what happened. When there are deaths involved, a major motive is, obviously, avoiding responsibility, but once in a while there is something both dark and humanitarian that has triggered a major cover-up. Something so awful that the people affected, or the general public, would not really want to know, and I wish I hadn't worked it out too . . .
This current one is very like that, only it's not a bunch of random foreigners on the other side of the world, it's very, very close, and it involves a family not so different from mine.
I'm trying to convince myself that I'm wrong, (and this time it's possible I am wrong, as I can't find proof positive), but it's that same lack of clarity in the information made available, that made me realise that it's all smoke and mirrors.
Taking a step back, I think my problem is that I identify too much with the family, without really knowing them. I can't actually decide, even if it was my family, would I actually want to know, if it's as awful as I suspect, or would I be so desperate to know what really happened that it wouldn't matter how awful it was.
On second thoughts, knowing how I can't move on from something until I have worked it out, I would have to know the truth, no matter how awful. But it's not me. It's someone who, for all I know, desperately needs to hang on to the idea that their loved one is still alive and will come home one day.