Tag Archives: death

Why You Laugh and Cry

Cry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 16, 2010

The other day I got sucked into a movie I didn’t want to see.  It wasn’t because I don’t like the movie or that I was humoring my wife (well, okay, I was… a little).  It’s because I didn’t want to cry… and I knew that movie would make me cry.

There are certain movies that make me cry, guaranteed.  And Steel Magnolias is one of them.  Go on, laugh.  But you watch it again and you’ll know what I mean.

You see, the first time you watch a movie that makes you cry, you don’t cry like the second time, or third time, or fourth time you watch it.  That’s because the first time you watch it, it’s unexpected.  It either sneaks up on you or hits you all of a sudden, and the cry just kinda comes out of you from surprise.

The next time you watch a cry movie, you know you are going to cry.  From the minute the credits roll, you know there is going to come that scene or scenes that will open the flood gates to your heart.

Crying isn’t bad.  In fact it is very healthy.  But crying when you don’t want to but you know you will is awkward.  Because you cry when something is true, but it is so goddamned sad, like when Sally Fields finally breaks down after her daughter’s funeral with her untethered tirade about how unfair and senseless death is. 

That is very true.  And it is so goddamned sad.

The upside to all of this is that most movies that make you cry usually also make you laugh… for the same reasons.  Like when Dolly Parton says: “Time marches on and eventually you realize it’s marching across your face.”

That is very true.  And it is also goddamned sad.  But it is exceptionally funny.

Death and Dying

01 Angie 1

August 24, 2008

A year ago yesterday my wife’s mother died. We saw her for the last time 2 hours before she passed into the great beyond. She did not pass quietly.

Angie’s motto in life was “do what you want because life is short.” She didn’t eat well, she smoked, and she never went to the doctor. That was what she wanted to do in life. It led to uncontrolled diabetes, heart failure, and death at 59.

She balked at her condition, even hid it. When she finally went to the hospital, her legs were black, cold, and rotting, weeping constantly with fluid loss. The doctors concluded her heart was less than 30% effective. She didn’t have much time… a few months.

She spent the last 5 months of her life in the hospital vigorously denying that anything was seriously wrong with her. She was convinced that she would get over it. But it wasn’t that positive “help me fight this thing” attitude. It was that delusional “what are you talking about? I’m fine” that made being around her rather difficult. She wouldn’t wrap things up with her family or provide closure. Every day was just another day watching TV, reading, and waiting to go home.

After the first few visits I couldn’t visit anymore. It was that disturbing to me. For months, I simply drove Shandell to the hospital while she visited and I stayed in the car. I judged Angie in her choices and in her death. And I judged my own self; I judged my weakness.

A year later now, Shandell and I are still bobbing on the ripples of that time. We miss the care-free Angie, not the careless one. Despite how it ended, we loved her. She was a big part of our holidays and our lives.

I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t know if the motto of her life is good or bad. Some will say “let that be a lesson to you; you reap what you sow.” Others will say “she was right: enjoy life in whatever way you want because you can die at any time.”

I do know one thing. I’m not judging anymore.