BLASTERS

I recently had to explain the above picture to some new friends. The Cabbage pointed it out to everyone in the room and I found myself saying “that’s my late husband with a Stormtrooper.” This was not an acceptable answer for the Cabbage who replied “but why that picture?” I went with the simplest answer. I went with that picture because it’s funny. We were at the Medieval Fair in Norman and Stormtroopers appearing in Medieval times is nerdy genius. The more elaborate answer as to why that picture is that it is a capture of pure authentic joy. It is one of the few pictures I have of Chris where he is not making a face at the camera and it is a picture of Chris with something Star Wars, his favorite thing.

Most every single picture I own of the two of us, in everyone of them Chris is not looking at the camera. He is always looking at me.

There is a gap forming between when Chris died and now. I was scrolling through pictures, looking for something in particular, and I noticed that there are hundreds of photos in my storage that I must scroll through to get to the Chris years. It makes me think of the end of Titanic where they just show a bunch of photographs of Rose doing stuff and living life. The only difference is that I know Chris would have fit on that door with me floating in the Atlantic and I would made sure that he was on it with me. We both probably would have lost our feet to frostbite, but we’d still be alive. Chris dragged me to the theater four times to watch that movie. The first viewing was great, but by the fourth viewing, I was fed up with Rose and her wide-eyed, insipid, innocence and I still did not understand why it was that both of them could not fit on that giant door. Chris fell off into the ocean anyway and I went on to live a life and every day I feel that tether linking us get longer and longer. I worry that my rope isn’t long enough. I’m going to run out of length and stretch the line until it thins and breaks. Some time back, Michael mentioned that I might stop wearing my wedding rings after a certain amount of time. Like, if Michael and I are together for as long as Chris and I were, then maybe I could stop wearing them. I remember vaguely nodding my head without comment. The truth is that I don’t ever see me not wearing these wedding rings around my neck. They’re part of the tether. The weight of them resting just above my heart is what helps to keep that tether from fraying.

For Star Wars Day, my friend Jeff sent me a link to a trivia game based on all things Star Wars. It reminded me of all the times we played Star Wars Trivial Pursuit and how my answer to every question was “R2D2”. Meanwhile Chris would know random ships by their number. The game always came down to Chris and Jen with one of them winning or maybe tying. I did not beat Jeff’s trivia score. Too many questions about lightsaber colors and ship numbers, all the questions Chris would have the answers to. None of the answers were R2D2. None of the answers are ever really R2D2.

It is days like these that close the gap of the in between years.

THAT TIME I STARTED SOBBING IN TARGET

Paper bird

"Paper bird"

Initially I was in the toy section of Target to buy a birthday present for one of the Cabbage's little friends because we have to take the Cabbage to a birthday party on our weekend. We're creeping into birthday season, so I expect that many of our weekends will be spent driving from one party to the next. I probably should have let the Cabbage pick out the present, because I can hear the complaining already, but that's another story. Probably for Mother's Day. It was just easier for me to pick up a gift then to wait until we had the Cabbage with us. Then we'd be scrambling to get the present, wrap it and get to a party across town. I'll take the imagined complaints to save us from scrambling. Any way, I pushed my shopping cart down the so called "girls" isle, frowning at the Monster High dolls, which is what I ended up getting. I did notice that Barbie has a new reasonable waist. So head nod to that, Mattel. 

I turned my cart down the Star Wars isle because I noticed that they had restocked a bunch of things. I already have a Rey action figure, but she's a little bit bigger than the original figures. They make the original sized figures of all the other characters and I'm still looking for a Rey in that size. I went through everything on the shelves and never found a Rey figure. Nothing. The only Rey I found was the 'Janku' Rey with her speeder bike and it was more than I wanted to spend or should be spending. I did consider getting a Poe Dameron or the die-cast Millennium Falcon and it was while I was considering these things that a brick hit me in the face and I sat down hard in the middle of the isle and started sobbing.  

I cried because I was angry at manufactures for not providing enough Rey figures and I cried because I knew that half of those toys would be in our house by now if Chris was still with us. There would not be any hemming and hawing on whether or not to buy the Poe Dameron or the 'Janku' Rey. I cried because I was angry at the kid I'd heard weeks ago call them A-T-A-Ts instead of AT-ATs. I cried because I still wanted to slap my niece's boyfriend for calling it the Millennial Falcon. It's the MILLENNIUM Falcon, you idiot! Yeah, I probably shouldn't have said that out loud, but fuck it all. I said it.  I cried because I felt ridiculous for my comic book guy snobbery and know it all attitude about all things Star Wars. I cried because I knew so much about Star Wars in the first place. I cried because the teaser for the newest Star Wars movie had just been released. And God Dammit all, it is all just too fucking much. Because that person who should be here to appreciate all the Star Wars is not here and it's like having salt and lemon juice rubbed into paper cuts on my heart. 

I rail at the timing of everything. Why did they wait this long for a really good reboot of the Star Wars series?!? Couldn't they have released the latest movie just maybe five years earlier? At least he would have had that one movie before it all ended. Then I rail at the unfairness of everything. I want kick that whole "life isn't fair" thing in the shins, because I don't understand, can't even begin to comprehend, why it has to be so unfair. I am surprised by how violent grief has made me. I want a bloodletting. I just haven't decided whose blood needs to be let yet, but by golly, when I figure that out I'm coming at you with all of the knives. Not really. I'm more of a woman of thoughts and no action. But I'll tell you, my thoughts are bloody even when my rational brain is resigned to the idea of no Chris or Star Wars without Chris. Chewie without Han.

I wiped my face on the hem of my t-shirt and pulled myself off the floor. I took a deep breath and looked at the things in my cart. One Monster High Frankie Stein doll, some Shopkins, and a bag of hand soap refill. I nodded to the things in the basket and said to no one in particular "OK. OK." and I ignored the confused worried stock boy as I turned that cart around and continued with my shopping. That's it really. I just let the brick hit me and moved on.

As always. 

DEAR J.J. ABRAMS

You probably get this a lot, letters from fans and probably a few from non-fans. I'm going to be honest. While I'm a huge fan of your work, I am not your biggest fan. That title would go to Chris. Actually, if it wasn't for Chris, I most likely would not have paid as much attention to your work. Chris paid attention. He paid attention to all things Sci-fy related, but his ultimate passion was Star Wars. I knew this when I married him, but it would be a few years into our marriage before I would realize just how Star Wars obsessed he was. 

We met in college. It was a random introduction in the school cafeteria that led to a discussion of books. On my first visit to his dorm room, I noticed the Star Wars sheets on his bed. I knew that Chris was poor and frugal so I just assumed those sheets where a set of twin sheets left over from his childhood that he just decided to use for college so he wouldn't have to spend money on new ones. Those sheets would move with us to our first apartment together, then to an apartment we would live in during graduate school in our first years of marriage. As we were packing for our third move, I pulled those sheets out of the closet and started to put them in a box. I paused and asked "Do we really need these? We don't have a twin sized bed. We should just donate them." Chris snatched the sheets from my hands. "Are you kidding me?! Do you know what these sheets are?! These are original Star Wars sheets! We're keeping them!" Those sheets would be moved with us from apartment to rent house to a brief stay in his mother's house and finally to our first home and what would be Chris's last home.

Yeah, you guessed it. Chris is no longer with us. Quite simply, we had a year of wonderful where we started a new life in a new city. We bought a lawnmower and became home owners and then Chris got sick and died. It really happened almost just that fast. Chris was smart and funny. He was my best friend. He was a total geek who knew every thing there was to know about Star Wars. The only time I ever beat him at a game of Star Wars Trivial Pursuit was because I'm pretty sure he let me win by feeding me the easiest questions or at least the ones that could be answered with R2D2. We had a ritual where we'd say a sort of grace before our evening meal. Both of us had lost our religion long ago, but we were in a place where we felt it was important to be grateful. We'd end our little prayer of thanks not with an "amen" but with "So say we all and thank you to the Force." 

Any way. I think you get the point. The continuation of the Star Wars anthology was just a rumor when Chris got sick. A year after his death, it was official. There would be three new Star Wars movies and that you would be directing at least the first one. I thought "of course" as soon as I heard. You are the director that Chris would have picked. In reality, Chris would have wanted to direct it himself, but you were for sure his second pick. It was actually something he talked about. What if they did three more stories? Who would direct? These were the kinds of debates we'd have over coffee. I saw that movie over the weekend. I went in not wanting to have expectations and steeling myself against disappointment. There was a part of me begging for this to please please be worthy of Chris and another part of me saying to just let it be the movie that it is.

I couldn't tell you what the opening scroll said. I started sobbing as soon as the words Star Wars popped up on the screen. I used that time while the story scrolled up the screen to pull my shit together so I could watch the movie. There have been so many moments when I wish it was possible to talk to the dead, like the time I couldn't find my scooter key after Chris died (he totally knew where it was) or to ask him about the scraps of notes I'd come across while cleaning out his office. Now, all I can think of is what would he say about this movie. I want to know his thoughts. I want to hear his speculations for the next movies. I was not disappointed. It was everything I could have expected it to be and I think Chris would have said the same. In fact there were times when I was sure that Chris had to have whispered an idea into your ear. 

So, well done Mr. Abrams. You managed, without even knowing it, to honor and pay respect to a dead man. This movie was a perfect balance between old and new with just enough nostalgia for the past to pull on heart strings. The new characters are equal parts intriguing and lovable and I can't wait to find out more about them and who they are. One of the most important things you brought back to this series though, is the humor. It was serious when it needed to be, but there was also the kind of humor that we saw in Episode IV. Star Wars fans needed that. You have made Star Wars fun again. For this, I thank you. Thank you J.J. Abrams for reminding us all why we fell in love with Star Wars in the first place. 

Sincerely,

Cindy Maddera of ElephantSoap.com