It is funny how you miss certain people when they are gone. Not funny, ha-ha-funny. Funny, curious-funny. I’ve lost several people to death. People I loved and cared about. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends.
But it wasn’t until my Dad died in 2013, and then my Mom in 2016, that I had some high-end grief. And I think this was more true for my Dad. My Mom suffered from dementia. So, in a sense we had lost the “cohesive” part of her a long time ago.
But my Dad. I sit here now and well up just thinking about him.
A few months ago, the movie “Stan and Ollie” was released. When I saw the trailers, my heart sank a little. And for good reason.
My Dad loved the comedy of old. He absolutely adored it. Laurel and Hardy were one of his favorite duos. There was Buster Keaton. Harold Lloyd. Charlie Chaplin. Fatty Arbuckle. He loved all of them. They were all masters of comedic timing. Most of them did this with a physicality that was magical. Few of them used words. It was a time when comedy came down to the split second. The player had to lay it down — exactly right — for the thing to work. Dad introduced all of these guys to us kids. I found a great love for this type of comedy too.
I watched “Stan and Ollie” yesterday. Initially, I had bucked against seeing it. I didn’t think Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly could pull it off, for one thing. I also thought that if they COULD pull it off, it would be a source of big sadness for me. As I am sure my Dad would have loved to see a movie about them.
Coogan and Reilly did it all justice, I thought. Their portrayals were right on, in my assessment.
So, yeah. I cried a whole bunch when I watched it. I’m probably the only one on the planet who did. But, a big part of me wanted to be watching it with my Dad.
That would have been nice.
But, my Dad left of lot of him behind. Things that remind me. Like this movie. You know. That’s might be it. Our effects on this place. A lot of that movie had to do with all the memories, the effects, that Stan and Ollie left behind. So, yes. We leave our trails while we are here, on this earth. In every where we go, and every little thing we do. It isn’t like the popcorn trails of Hansel and Gretel, because we really don’t intend on finding our way back.
No. I’d say we are more like slugs. Yep. Slugs. We inch along through our lives, and we leave this silvery trail behind us. Everyone around us can see it. When we first lay the thing down, that silvery path is thick. It stands right out. But the further along we go, the more it fades. And fades. Until we don’t see it anymore. Those of us left standing around.
Hopefully, God isn’t sprinkling salt that day, and we just die a peaceful slug death in a bed of dirt somewhere. But when the sun hits the pavement just right, you can still see that trail of silver that went behind us.
Yep. That is us. Each day. I’m a slug.
Today, I am going to think about making a good trail.
Just for today.
And hopefully tomorrow, I’ll do the same.
“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie
“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”
― François Rabelais
“Sometimes,” he sighed, “I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see. ”
― Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha