I’ve been broken. This last week, I became a slave to my television, and it broke me. And, by broken, of course I mean, an emotional, tear-shedding, reaching-for-the-Kleenex, sniffling, blubbering fool. I am adversely affected by this because I often pride myself on my ability to keep my tears inside my eyes during such programs. Usually, (and I love him more for this) it is Chris that sheds the tears. Ever since he became a proud papa, he’s been this way. It’s lovely and endearing and in no way lessens his manhood, in fact, I am a believer that it only enhances it.
The first sob-fest came last Friday night when, for family movie night, we all four watched the Disney/Pixar film, “Up.” Chris and I had seen it once years ago, but the kids hadn’t yet. We knew the beginning of the film was a heart-destroyer, but perhaps didn’t remember to what extent said heart would be destroyed.
Have you seen this film? I don’t want to spoil anything if you haven’t but maybe take yourself to a place you’ve visited before upon watching something say, as horribly wretched, as The Notebook. I’ll say no more. But there my husband and I sat in a blubbering stupor as our boys asked what was wrong with us? Why were we crying? I could barely utter the words to answer them through my choking sobs! I believe I even had puffy eyes to show for it.
This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me. I’m not saying I’m made of nails or anything, but I prefer so fervently to not cry at all that I really am pretty good at warding off the act of it completely–especially when it comes to screen-type entertainment.
Well, phooey. It happened again. Last night. And, I tell you what, I knew it was coming. I knew it, you know I did? Chris and I have become wildly enthusiastic fans of the BBC series, Doctor Who. We are eternally grateful for Netflix, that we can watch the seasons as we please, fully knowing that we are something like five seasons behind. But, we have all the time to catch up. And, I will spare you the details of the characters of whom I will be talking about, because I could perhaps write a thesis about my love for them and why they are so great. And, this isn’t the place or time for that.
The point is, is that we had to say good-bye to one of them last night and I loved her character so much, so much I tell you, that I can’t even imagine moving forward without her. I have even developed a relationship with one of the cashiers at my neighborhood Alberstons based solely upon our Doctor Who fandom that earlier yesterday, before Chris and I purposefully succumed to the torture that our hearts would endure later that evening, I said to her, “Kristy, we’re about to watch the last two episodes of season two tonight.” And you know what she did? I’ll tell you right now! She grabbed her chest and gasped. I told her I knew what was coming (because I read things about the show) I didn’t know how it would happen, but I told her I knew it would and I asked her how would I get through it? She advised me to just let it happen and make sure I was armed with plenty of Kleenex. We small talked about it and I whined my way through her line and she told me there was hope. With this support, just available around the corner at the grocery store, I felt as ready I could be.
Well, fast forward then to last night where Chris and I sat yet again, a couple of blubbery messes. I shed so many tears that my glasses fogged up.
Here, I’ll show you a picture from part of the scene. I torture myself by repeatedly looking at it. And I get it, if you aren’t into the show, it won’t make much sense, but please, just look at their eyes and tell me that doesn’t tug on you a little bit.
I’ve become a softy. Every time I look at that photo, I groan a little, sort of in a similar way to how Billy Crystal’s character of Harry in When Harry Met Sally groans on the phone with Sally when they finish watching Casablanca and he tells her he thinks he’s coming down with something and maybe he would just moan all night (a loose translation, I admit, but we’re talking about Doctor Who this time, not Harry and Sally). Chris will hear me and ask me if I’m looking at the picture again. Ha!
AND ITS A TELEVISION SHOW!!
That’s what gets me. It’s not even real. Bleh. I know this has been the way since the dawn of television. We fall in love with our characters and we object to change. I know its happened to you, too! What departure of a favorite character comes to your mind?
As if my mind isn’t already at capacity with all the Doctor Who (and not to mention Sherlock, that we’ve fallen for, but that’s another day…another blog post), I feel like not soon enough must I move on to the next season so I can…well, move on.