Last Friday I spent the evening with George Clooney. Yup, that George Clooney. But before you grab your phone to ask me how I've witheld this information from you for a full week, don't get too excited, Jessie Spano. I was at the movies to find out whether "The Descendants" was worth the hype. It was. And though I'll do my best not to give away any plotlines that aren't already disclosed in the previews, I make no promises that a few minor surprises may not be revealed...but I'll try.
I feel like Stefon from Weekend Update right now, but "This movie has it all: big beach hats, Beau Bridges, an emotional arc, a couple of weed references and midgets in hula skirts." Okay, maybe I made up that last one, but it's really freaking good. The only problem is that I didn't quite know what I was in for when I settled in next to my hubby for a date-night movie. And by the end I was doing that really ugly I'm-crying-so-f'ing-hard---much-harder-than-anyone-else-in-the-theater---but-I'm-trying-not-to-show-it-so-my-face-is-all-contorted-and-I'm-trying-to-subtly-wipe-away-tears thing. I looked like Farrah from "Teen Mom." (Seriously. Google "Farrah Abraham ugly cry." You'll also get some Heidi Montag image gems in there. Bonus!) It wasn't pretty. Anyway, I think it was 74% that it was just seriously that good, 8% because I'm married now and watching stories about infidelity (revealed in previews!) affects me so very much more than it ever did before, and 18% because it occurred to me (for only the second time that day -- we're making progress!) that that day, December 9th, was the anniversary of the death of a beautiful soul and lovely friend of mine...no, not the one I previously wrote about. Unfortunately, this friend was taken by a drunk driver...
And it had been 10 years.
10 whole years. Damn. It still feels like yesterday -- I mean, I can remember exactly what I was wearing, who was in the car I shared to her parents' house the next morning, crying until my entire face literally ached for days, calling my mom and barely being able to get words out...living by myself that year and being so unable to handle any human interaction for so long after that. Man. I tear up now, just thinking about it.
So, yeah. The movie made me cry, even though it had nothing to do with drunk driving, nor were there any characters named Andrea. I did my best to hold it together until the last frames, when we navigated the exit, the parking garage and were safely sealed in my little Civic. Then the radio transitioned songs and David Gray's "Please Forgive Me if I Act a Little Strange" came on. And I lost it. Since I have yet to share the ghost stories I once promised to divulge, that means nothing to you. But it was significant. It was perfect and tragic and eery all at the same time. At once I was crying and laughing simultaneously. Sean looked at me and said, with a half-worried smile, "You okay?" And I somehow got out, "Yeah. Yeah I am. I know you don't believe in any of this and that you think I'm crazy, but I swear she's here right now. I swear it...and she's telling me that I've got to let this go. I have to let this go. I need to be celebrating her life, not marking how she died...it's time to move on." And I realized I remember December 9th every year, but I don't even know when her birthday is. Andrea was that birthday, not the sad fate that befell her in December. Shame on me for getting it wrong for all these years.
And that night when I peeled back the covers to get in bed, something caught the light and my eye.
"What's this?" I asked Sean, holding up a small gold foil heart that people often enclose in birthday cards.
He shook his head. "I don't know. That looks like it's more your department than mine."
I just smiled, shook my head a bit and tucked it safely in the eyeglass case perched on the windowsill above my bed.
Who knows?
And every time I feel like she's a million miles away, I have a beautiful tribute CD that another extraordinary soul made for me right after our loss. And, even though I have no idea if she ever even liked any of these songs, it reminds me that she's not so far away that she can't reach down every now and again and remind me that I'm living for two of us some days. So don't forget that.
And then I remember that all of this comfort is something I'm giving myself. But, hey...what's the harm in that?
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