The Time Traveler's Wife

Last night I decided that I didn't want to go to sleep right away after climbing up to my bedroom. I turned on the television, which I don't actually do that often, and found that a movie was just about to begin. It was called "The Time Traveler's Wife." I thought, perfect, just the right type of fluff I am in the mood for.

It was an interesting concept, about a guy whose DNA made him travel time, forward and backward, without his control. Well, let me first of all put out a disclaimer of sorts. It didn't hurt that the promo showed one very handsome Eric Bana, moving from time to time, always showing up somewhere in the nude. Thank you very much! Even though I am lost in my grief these days, I am still your typical, visual, oversexed male. Anyway...

The time traveler meets a young girl in a field, and they quickly becomes friends. Through the movement of the story you realize that this young girl is to be his future wife. There is good acting, beautiful scenery, and lots of cute Eric Bana to go around. Being in the type of mood that I have find myself in as of late, I must admit to shedding a tear here and there. What I wasn't expecting was to suddenly become completely engulfed in deep sorrow.

There is a scene where the characters accidentally witness a moment of Eric Bana's character coming forward into present day, where you see him dying. The couple, and their friends, stands there horrified by this image of a man so vulnerable and broken. It happens so quickly, and so unexpectedly, but the look upon the wife's face, and the visual of looking down at her husband, dying, hit me like a ton of bricks. This has never happened to me before. The moment I saw this I completely lost myself in emotional agony. It was just as it happened the moment that Michael died.

I remember holding Michael throughout the night. I was soothing him, and administering morphine to keep his pain a bay, and to help his labored breathing. When he suddenly took that last breath it felt like my last breath was also taken out. I felt like something larger than life had hit me right in the gut. I screamed out loud from the deep recesses of my being, fell to the floor and sobbed. It hurt, and there was nothing to prepare myself for this.

Last night the image of the husband had that same effect on me. It was as if it unlocked a part of that experience from a year ago that was too much for one soul to bear. As I watch the television, I bent over in pain, and sobbed out loud. I cried more than I have in so long. It hurt. It felt too big for me, and I questioned what I should do. I knew that my cousin was asleep downstairs, and thought perhaps I should go wake him up. I thought that I should quickly get on the floor in case I felt faint. I wondered if I should run to the bathroom in case I got sick. It was that bad.

What I chose to do was just keep breathing. I sobbed, and I breathed. I sobbed, and I breathed. During this I had the television on pause, and once calm, decided to move forward with the story. From there the experience of watching this story got easier. That is, until the very end.

The wife's husband has died, and you hear her daughter acknowledge that she has remained alone, and sad over the years. But then, when I should have known it would happen, the time traveler showed up again. He was talking to his young daughter, who quickly wrapped her arms around her father. She screamed out to the wife, who started running as fast as she could. She kept calling out to the traveler husband to not leave before she got there. Of course in the end he is able to remain long enough for that one last embrace. That's when I felt the pain of being stabbed in the heart.

Isn't that what we all secretly crave? To have one last time to hold them in our arms, to kiss them and taste their lips on ours. To feel their breath upon our face, and to find ourselves breathing along with them? Well, another avalanche occurred in my room. Sobbing, and more sobbing.

I thought to myself, what the fuck am I doing? Why did I choose to watch this? And why do I put myself through this?

I wish I had a clever answer to give you, but in times like this I don't think clever enters into the picture. It might have been fate, meaning that I needed to let down my drawbridge. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that this particular movie was on. I don't really know what to think. I don't even think I have a good conclusion to this post.

Maybe it was just to make me realize how big this loss is in my life. In a way, it allows me to appreciate how well I am doing. Look how vulnerable I am to have completely fallen apart by a simple movie. Sp much has happened to me in the last few years. My husband got cancer. My husband died. And I am here to survive.

I am surviving.