I just took my Dad’s blu-ray player out of the bins I’d brought back after he died. I put the first Batman in it; I haven’t seen it yet, and a friend was kind enough to loan it to me.
A few years ago, I’d helped my Dad pick this player out, and I hooked it up to his TV. I went through his VCR tapes with him and made a wish list of DVD movies for him. My brother bought some of them for him. I loved calling him and hearing the details of which ones he’d watched.
I wish I could watch Batman right now. More than anything, though, I wish I could watch it right now with my Dad. It’s the kind of movie he would have loved. It’s the kind of movie I would have loved to watch with him.
I wonder how long it will be before my eyes stop welling up with tears from any reminder of him.
I’m looking forward to when I can get past that choking tightness in my throat from swallowing the pain of missing him so dearly, too.
For now, I’ve no choice but to let the tears come, imagining his voice as if he and I were watching this movie. If I let it out now, maybe I can enjoy Batman later, with a little less pain.
~ cj 2012.07.20