06.16.2010
There are moments in life where the spirit moves you. Literally.
Back to Sex and the City 2 for a moment and an issue that really hit home that, for whatever reason (probably wanting to hide from myself), I didn’t want to admit bugged me as much as it did. If you read my “Unexpected Detours” entry, you know that I don’t do well with emotions.
The characters of Carrie and Big don’t want children. They remind each other throughout the movie that it’s just the two of them and, at the beginning of the movie, they tell a couple at a wedding about how, despite loving children, having them just isn’t who they are as a couple.
There’s definitely a part of me that gets that. And scarily so. But as the movie progressed and showed their daily schedule of ordering in or going out to their favorite restaurants, or Big settling on the couch for the evening and she settling in next to him…it got me thinking. Their home had amazing décor that will never have drawings in crayon on them. And that’s OK. They have the luxury of going out whenever and for however long they want. And that’s fine too (and something I thoroughly enjoy doing with my husband). But, I got a sense from these scenes that there was very much something missing.
During the scene where Carrie gives Big an engraved watch for their anniversary, I felt a sadness come over me. The engraving was about how it was just going to be the two of them for the rest of their lives. And as happy as that seemed to make them I suddenly realized that if one of them died, that’s it. The memories they’ve created together would continuously remain in her or his memory bank. Alone.
Well, being the great emotional pusher-asider that I am, I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Until today.
I have lived in the same building for 27 years. If I’m still here in 3 years, I can celebrate 30 years; not a milestone I really want to achieve. (Perhaps I’ll blog about the reasons someday.) As you can imagine, living in a place for this long, you get to know your neighbors. Many people with whom I grew up still live in the building including the neighbors with whom we share a patio fence.
These particular neighbors and my family were never close but they are very much a part of my childhood. They would keep to themselves and even their kids were recluses and the mother kind of scared me. I think there was a lot of pain behind her eyes and her gruff behavior but, as a kid, you just know what scares you.
I noticed a few months ago that it had been at least a year ½ that I last saw the mother and I got confirmation today that she passed away about a year ago. The first thought that came to my mind was the anniversary watch scene from Sex and the City 2. Even though my neighbors aren’t necessarily the friendliest and kept to themselves, they were a family of 4 with their own rituals, traditions, and memories.
I have noticed that the son comes over at least 2-3 times a week to be with his dad who, I have to say, hasn’t been looking well himself lately. But…what he has is a son (and daughter) and shared memories to help with the pain of having lost his partner.
The idea of having a/n (adult) child to hold on to in times of trouble, in times of loneliness if, God forbid, you lose your partner…it’s the common bond that ties you. And, strangely, in this context, having a child doesn’t scare me as much as living a life alone without the love of my life were I to ever lose him.
