covert grief
I had a movie-going experience unlike any other I've ever had in my life last night. It was a visceral experience, to a degree even surreal, certainly deeply emotional—watching a dramedy called Together, about a British coupke, man and a woman coming to terms with their deeply, mutually resentful relationship in the midst of COVID lockdowns during the pandemic. This may the first time I've ever said this, but I would actually recommend reading my full review to get a true sense of what the experience was like for me, but I still want to share a full paragraph from it here (also a first), because it was so personal to me and had so much to do with the complicated grieving process I've had in the wake of my mom's death last summer:
To be clear, a whole lot of Together is quite funny. It’s also at times deeply serious, and, somewhat to my surprise, an effective way to process the aforementioned collective trauma of this pandemic, which we really don’t talk about enough. I found the experience almost shockingly therapeutic.
And yes, at times, brutal. There’s a scene in this movie in which Sharon Horgan’s character processes the loss of her mother, and having to say goodbye to her in the hospital over FaceTime while pulled over to the side of the road in her car. The scene is gut wrenching, and I cried. And I cried. This scene unlocked some dormant grief of my own, after having lost my own mother last year. My mom’s death had nothing to do with COVID, but my grief was still affected by it—as was that of anyone who lost a loved one over the past year and a half, for any reason. I didn’t just cry when I watched Sharon Horgan detail the unfairness of her mother dying alone. For a few seconds, I wept. I hadn’t cried like this at a movie in a good twenty years, and never for such a deeply, viscerally personal reason.
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Getting back to this post itself, in fact, I hadn't cried even over Mom's death since July of last year, the month in which she died. I didn't cry very much after she died, truth be told. I wept for a minute right after getting the phone call from Christopher that she had passed. I wept again for a minute, in Shobhit's arms, after Dad called that very evening just to offer emotional support, which really moved me. I was also deeply moved by Gabriel's multiple phone calls to make sure I was reminded of him being there for whatever I needed (leaving me somewhat worried about whether I'll even be capable of being there for him in a sufficient way whenever his mother passes away, which is hopefully still a long ways off), and I got a little misty-eyed at that, but it never made me full-on cry. I've had moments of unexpected emotional pangs in the months that passed since, but nothing that made me outright weep again; so far as I can recall, last year those were the only two times I did, like, full-on "ugly cry," and in both cases it was only for a minute.
Now it's more than a year later, and this movie really did it to me. But, there's something about shared grief, even if it crosses the "fourth wall" from a movie screen—seeing someone else going through it makes it a lot easier to open up the emotion in yourself. This is what "tear jerkers" are for (although I wouldn't really use that descriptor for this movie). It does make me realize that, had we been able to hold a traditional memorial service for Mom, I certainly would have cried more times, because there would have been a lot of grief from a lot of people gathered together. That makes a difference, and it unlocks the grief and allows you to let it out.
In the absence of that, this movie did it instead. Even this time it was fairly brief. I mean, it was during a harrowing monologue about the loss of someone's mother, and I had tears streaming down my cheeks for almost the full duration of it. But there was still one moment during it, when it was so intensely relatable and made me think of my mom dying in a hospital alone, I had to put my face in my hand, close my eyes, and let the grief fill my head and pour out of my face in tears. It was a singular experience. I'm not sure I would say it was some kind of "release" of grief that I was burying or holding in; I'd have cried plenty at that scene even if Mom were still alive. But it was still made different, and much more personal and emotionally intense, by the similarity of my experience.
For the record, by the way, I still have no regrets regarding my decision not to rush over to Coeur d'Alene to say goodbye to her. Mom was not conscious for the many days, from the time she was taken to the hospital until the time she died. I still believe, quite strongly, that not only would it have made zero difference to her, but it would have made my experience of her death notably worse, having that as my final memory of her. Instead, the last time I saw her in person was in December 2019, parting with a loving hug; the last time I spoke to her on the phone was on her birthday a month before she died, the last thing I said to her being "I love you." These things comfort me far more than the trauma of seeing her in a hospital on life support could ever have, saying "goodbye" to someone who doesn't even hear me. I still feel that I made the right decision, and I likely always will.
Anyway. There's a lot more to say about that movie, which exceeded my expectations, all of which are already detailed in the review.
I saw the movie at Pacific Place, at a 4:20 showing in which I really thought I might be the single patron in the theater—but in the end, there was one other guy in there, sitting way in the back row. Pacific Place's theaters are split into two sections and I like to sit in the front row of the back section, which is on raised stadium seating and has a metal railing I can rest my feet on. So that other guy and I must have been seven rows behind me. I only even noticed him when I looked around to see if I was still alone in there when the trailers ended and the movie was starting. The guy still had his mask on! As did I. It's just, few people keep their masks on through the entire movie when I go to movies. I was glad this guy did. Maybe there was greater chance of viewers of this movie would be, given the incredibly relevant subject matter.
After the movie, I rode my bike the rest of my way home, and had dinner before writing my review. Shobhit had made stuffed bell peppers, which were pretty good; we watched an episode of Schitt's Creek while we ate. Then I went to the bedroom to write the review, which was on the longer side (more than 1000 words) but I don't care. I had a lot to say about it!
I got just a brief moment to say hi to Ivan before he left for his graveyard shift, and Shobhit and I watched two more episodes of Shitt's Creek before I went to get ready for bed.
[posted 12:30 pm]