Momnesia

I watched the movie “Big Fish” last night - or, rather, I tried to watch it. But the movie takes place during the fight by the father, played by Albert Finney, to live his life even though he has incurable cancer. There was a scene where he was comforting his wife. I thought, “Oh, how terrible it must be to have to watch the man you’ve loved for 30 years, the father or your children, die a slow and painful death.” And then I thought: “Soon, I’ll have a husband. Oh, god. One day he’ll die!” And the floodgates opened. I don’t want Scott to die. I realize that it won’t be anytime soon. Or, at least, one can only hope. I guess you never know for sure.

After about an hour, I got myself under control. I restarted the movie. Within five minutes, Albert Finney’s character had a stroke. I thought: “My father is about the same age as Albert Finney’s character. Oh, god. One day my father will die!” And then the floodgates reopened, and they wouldn’t stop. For three hours.

When Scott got home, he was... confused. And comforted me very poorly. I finally cried myself to sleep. Scott thinks I’ve gone insane. And, to be honest, I rarely cry like that. Not when I broke my ankle. Not when my grandfather died. Only once or twice in my life have I cried like that, and certainly never over something like a movie.

Scott called me when I was at work to inform me that I’d better enjoy the remaining seven months "because after the baby is born I’m getting my nuts chopped.”