I don't cry at movies. I don't weep at commercials for long distance service or Hallmark cards and I don't tear up at the Kodak one of the kids taking pictures for their Grandpa's birthday. I don't get emotional at forwarded email stories of angels protecting us mortals and I don't believe in a good cry. Its just not my thing. But, there has always been one exception. Animals dying. I cried 14 minutes into Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey... even though I knew that all three animals lived in the original. I sobbed at the end of Turner and Hooch and have banned it from my movie viewing catalog. Don't even think about inviting me to Marley and Me (I won't even consider reading the book), because I know better and don't get me started on Benji the Hunted. I will cry at the thought. Interestingly though, last night, I witnessed a transformation in myself. I cried. At a TV show. And animals were not involved. WHAT??? The good news is that I started my period today, and while that might be TMI for my readers, it at least gives me hope that I am not turning into a tissue carrying, make up smeared.... sensitive person. GAH!
The show last night was Private Practice, and a little boy died. I know its not real, and in the past I never cared when a human died because they just showed up in another movie and it never seemed real to me. Macaulay Culkin can bite it in My Girl, because he'll just live again to die again in The Good Son so who cares? But, I think having my own kids has "real-ized" kid death for me and I can't do it anymore. That kinda sounds like I enjoyed kids dying in the past, which is not the case. But, it just never really bothered me. Last night, it bothered me. Mark was sleeping and I had tears streaming down my face trying to cry quietly so that he wouldn't wake up confused as to why I had lost my freaking mind. The mother on the show (who deserves an Emmy for her grief scene) cradled her dead son's body as she cried this gut wrenching cry that I can only imagine is half a painful as that sound would be if it were real.
It made me think about all the parents out there who lost their children. I cannot imagine what that would feel like. I truly think that I would die. I don't really get into celebrity gossip, but I feel so bad for John Travolta and Kelly Preston because I cannot imagine that piece of you being ripped away never to be seen again. That has to be the worst thing a human being can experience. Both of my parents lost siblings when I was not yet born, and both sets of my grandparents still mourn 30 years later. My grandmother on my dad's side spent Christmas in Massachusetts just so she could be graveside on the anniversary of her son's death. And, my grandpa on my mom's side shed tears every time he talked about his departed son til the day my grandpa died. It makes you want to not have kids because the idea of something happening to them is too much to take.
So, I guess I am a wussy now because I don't see an actor on that hospital bed dying of measles... I see Will. And don't get me started if its a baby because it will so be Jack in my eyes. And even now as Will cries at me because he woke up way too early today and he sits on my lap and I realize his diaper is leaking and he left a wet spot on my leg, I don't know how I could ever live without him. And, I pray to God I never have to.