Ghost

By Ken Wadland

Tonight while channel surfing on the TV, I happened across the movie “Ghost” (1990, starring Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore).

When I noticed it, I immediately flashed back to shortly after that movie came out. I had been on my first flight to Japan. This was going to be the first time I’d ever left the country without Vera at my side and was going to be the longest that I had been away from her since the day we meet 20 years earlier. Ghost was one of the movies they played on that flight. Since it was a very long flight, I decided to watch the movie. I was surprised when I started to cry during the scene where he holds his hands around hers at the pottery wheel. It’s a touching scene that’s in every promo for the movie because it gives the audience a sense of how much he wants to be able to hold her. I didn’t think I would cry but I did. Back then, it was extremely rare for me to cry. Obviously, I was already missing being with Vera even though it hadn’t yet been a full day.

Now back to today. I tuned in to the movie too late for the pottery wheel scene. But, I cried nonetheless. It wasn’t just a weepy-eyed crying but the tears running down the face, chest-sobbing kind of crying. And, I sobbed through the rest of the movie. I certainly had the physical ability to turn off the TV or change the TV but I didn’t want to. Why? Why would I want to sit there and cry?

It had been a sad movie for me when I first saw it. But, it was much worse this time, now I was in the situation they showed. When it got to the scenes were she gets to touch him and speak with him for a few precious moments, I could barely see through the tears. But, that didn’t matter. I knew the scenes. I knew what was coming but I couldn’t turn away. I now am the surviving half. I now want to hold my late wife in my arms. I do want to have one more chance to kiss her or to talk to her or just hold her hand. Something inside me wanted me to face the grief head-on, wanted me to suffer through those scenes.

Last week, I was leading my crew of Boy Scouts while we toured in the American Southwest. We landed in Las Vegas (because the flights were cheap). I cried quietly as the boys hiked up and down “the strip” as I remembered each of the places that Vera and I had visited in the past. (I made sure the boys didn’t notice me crying. No sense in “raining on their parade”.) The next day, we toured Hover Dam. Again, I quietly cried while vividly remembering exactly where Vera and I had walked. As we walked down the entrance stairs, I remembered her walking down those same stairs many years ago. The next day, we toured the Grand Canyon. And, again, I cried remembering the many times Vera and I visited there. As we drove past the roadside stands selling Indian crafts, I remembered each one. I cried as I remembered how we had to stop at each one of them because Vera so loved to buy Christmas presents at those stands. This repeated the next day at “Four Corners” as I remembered how Vera used to go to each stand. She couldn’t leave until she was sure she had seen everything they sold. Later that day, our crew visited Mesa Verde, which was her favorite National Park. I finally lost it and broke down sobbing. (Fortunately, shortly before this, I had taken one of the other adult leaders aside and said that I was overwhelmed and would need some time alone.)

I knew that I would be sad when I heard the song “More” that was “our song”. (I’m still sad when I hear “Cherish” which was the song for me and my high school sweetheart, Carol.) I didn’t think that I would cry over every memory of everything that Vera and I did.

The experts all tell me “it gets easier over time”. Well, that’s true. The first time I heard “Could I have this Dance”, I sobbed for several hours. Every few sentences, the song repeats: “Could I have this dance for the rest of my life”. That’s exactly my problem. We did share this dance for the rest of her life but not for the rest of my life. A few days later I heard the song again. This time I only cried not sobbed. Later that same week, I heard it a third time. This time I was just sad. So, yes, it does get easier over time.

Is this going to be the pattern for every memory? Must I go through the sobbing, crying, merely sad sequence for each cherished memory? There are too many memories!

Almost all of my memories include Vera. I met her and fell in love with her when I was only 19 years old! We traveled all over this country together building memories in almost every National Park and major tourist attraction. We literally flew around the world for our 25^th Wedding Anniversary. Although my memory for faces and names was bad and is getting worse, my memory for places is still crystal clear. I often remember details like which cash register she stood at when she bought presents at stores 20 or 30 years ago.

Am I going to cry every time I visit anyplace in the world?

July 29, 2008

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