Last night I watched a movie by myself. It’s the first movie I watched without him. It was terrible; literally, it was a bad movie (“Moonfall”).
But it was also harrowing in a different way. There was a weight on my chest all throughout. I felt like I was in shock. My stomach was in knots.
Watching movies was our thing. Either quietly watching, or loudly judging. We just sat together. And sometimes there would be food and drinks. He would make comments about the cinematography, and I would complain about the script and the story. He would explain the colouring or the shot, and I would listen and give him my attention, my regard.
I don’t always agree with everything that he says, but when it comes to movies, I recognize his authority. I’m not always successful in showing him that, my face is so often uncooperative. But I always try.
Late at night, he would check if I had water, or he would ask if I wanted some tea. I would always take him up on the offer to get some tea.
I am worried about the movies that are to come. The TV series that I would have to watch alone from now on. All the Marvel productions that are coming up. So many things remind me of him still.
I would be fine, and then suddenly I would be caught unawares, drowning under a heaving wave of nostalgia, and crying once again.
He is not the air that breathe, the water that I drink, nor the food that I eat.
But he was a very big part of my life. He helped shape some of who I am today. He had a hand in my character.
He made a mistake. Unfortunately he was consumed by that mistake, and he turned into a terrible person because of it.
But before he gave in to that weakness, he was a good husband.
WTF part 2