This past weekend I caught a broadcast of "Top Gun" for the 20 millionth time. I have no shame in admitting that I LOVE that movie, I love Tom Cruise in it, and I can recite much of the script by heart. Oh, and did I mention I love Tom Cruise?
What I don't love is Goose's untimely death three-quarters into the film. Whenever the flight training scene where his character dies begins, I always get a tight feeling in my chest, wishing (hoping) that somehow, this time, he won't die. But he always does.
I started to realize that as much as I think of myself as a pragmatic realist, in many ways I am very much an idealist. I watch movies again and again, hoping that certain scenes won't happen (this was particulary the case with "The Lovely Bones," even though there would be no film if the protagonist wasn't murdered). But, even outside the fantasty-world of the movie theater, I hope that certain parts of life are just a nightmare that I'll wake up from. As you might remember, several months ago an old high school friend of mine died tragically in a rock-climbing accident. Even though I haven't seen her in 15 years, her death hit me hard, and I think about her and her family all the time. I often check on her Facebook page, which her family maintains and posts to regularly. And I always think that perhaps her death is really just a bad dream...she can't really be dead...surely I'll wake up soon. But I never do.
It's not just the bad stuff in life that I hope to escape from. There are many wonderful things in life that are so incredible that I still can't believe they're real. My daughter would fit that bill. Everyday I look at her and am reminded that I never thought I'd be a parent, but now I am to this beautiful, wondrous creature. And then I wonder if the past 16 months (or maybe 26 months, if I count the pregnancy) have just been one long dream that I'll wake up from. And my heart breaks to think of waking up from the joy I have right now.
When I was in high school, I had a choir teacher who was pregnant with twins, and she continued to teach right up to her due date. She used to joke that she "could go into labor at any minute!" and I used to think how cool it would be if that were to happen. What if she went into labor and we choir students had to help her deliver her babies? The thought was so thrilling I used to imagine being the hero student profiled on the nightly news for delivering my teacher's babies. When a little voice asked me, What if something went wrong?, I realized that I never considered complications, because on television things always work out okay...I actually had the thought everything would work out okay if she gave birth here in school because that's the way the script would be written. I surprised even myself by the realization that television and movies had had a very negative influence on me, by making me think I could escape from the realities of life if it didn't turn out the way I wanted.
I visited my friend's Facebook page for the first time in weeks this afternoon. Her mother had posted an account of how her very young son had been calling for her one day, then remembered she was gone and said, "Oh, I mean, Daddy!" My heart broke for him and the entire family. Instantaneously my mind swivelled to thoughts of Bryony, growing up without me and the hurt and confusion she'd feel. It was too much to think about and I had to escape. I picked up the dog and ran outside for some fresh air, my heart heavy. I wanted my friend to be alive once more.
But she was still gone.
And outside, the sun was still shining.
And life--real life--goes on.
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