In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Silver Screen.”
The American President is one of my all time favorite movies. Having watched in almost anytime it is broadcast and having a copy somewhere in the house means that I can indulge myself at any point. The scene we’re talking about has everything to do with making up for past mistakes, or even the present ones. Having to miss a date, the President (played by Micheal Douglas) says he needs to pick up flowers as a way to make up for his job getting in the way. His staffer responds that she knows of no man who would do that, she’d never heard of such a thing.
Angst has been a big part of who I have become over the past year. Knowing that I wanted to do more, maybe even something different, praying that the outcome would change. Every evening wondering how things ended in the places they did. Doing the other thing that “men” are not supposed to do, get emotional, cry. I’ve written so many times about the loss of my daughter that knowing the anniversary of that event is in two days, I’m already filled with such a sadness that I just can’t enjoy anything.
The one universal truth I have experienced while talking with people who have gone through the same loss is that we no long fear death. No one is actively seeking it out, but should it happen there is this notion that we will be reunited with our child. It’s no different than what many religions teach us about how people will one day see their elders when they die.
“If I die tomorrow, I’ll be alright because I believe that after we’re gone, The Spirit Carries On.”
Lyrics from a song, something that plays in my head as a way of coping. Right now while I’m continuing my own struggle’s with my health, I keep having that fight with myself. The people who are around me will miss me, but I so want to spend the time [even if we refer to it as an “Eternity”] getting to know my daughter. The way I have been letting my mother get to know me. There are times when I have surprised her with the way I see things, so different from the person she thought I was. A lifetime spent protecting my family from everything turned me harsh in the way I deal with some people, some things. They had become used to the guy who just bulldozed the problems without regard to anyone’s feelings. Now they see a guy who doesn’t want anyone hurt, or hurting. Just the opposite of what they have come to learn. And while they need that guy to fix things, I can’t anymore. I have been barely able to fix myself.
Acknowledging all of that is something harder than anything I have ever known. We don’t admit faults publicly, let alone the nature of those faults. That old commercial about the elderly lady shouting “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up!” comes to mind. I’ve fallen, and I don’t know if I even want to get up. My priority has been fixing my relationships with a handful of people so that I have a shoulder to cry on when the physical pain becomes to much. They are how my spirit will carry on!