Spoiler Alert!

I think you'll have to bear with me while I go through this process of grief. Hey, it is my blog. I get to run the show.

A few weeks ago, I watched a movie with Joan Allen (whom I so admire) called Yes, written and directed by Sally Potter. It is a very artsy movie told entirely in iambic pentameter. SPOILER ALERT!!! In one scene, the aunt has died. Joan Allen's character, She, runs to her aunt's side too late. While She is brought to her knees in grief, her aunt's body lying inert on the hospital bed, we hear her aunt's voice. This is a portion of that monologue which has been running through my mind since Uncle died.

AUNT:
(V.O.)
If and when I die
I want to see you cry
I want to see you tear your hair. Your howls of anguish fill the air.
I want to see you beat your breast and rent your clothes and all the rest.
And, sobbing, fall upon my bed.
I want to know that I am dead.
I want to know I'm part of you
and that you cannot bear me being torn away.
I want to see you dressed in black, with red-rimmed eyes from sleepless nights of grieving;
I want to hear you protest at me leaving.
I want to see you in each other's arms, and wailing.
See you kick a chair and punch the wall and see you, moaning, fall upon the ground and scream.
I want to know this isn't just a dream.
I want my death to be just like my life.
I want the mess, the struggle, and the strife. I want to fight and see you fight for me.
I want to hear your last regrets the things you wish you'd done and said.
In fact I'd like that just before I'm dead.
Don't let them put you off,
or make you go, or say it's bad for me, or makes it hard for me to leave. It won't be true. I want to see you grieve.
Don't let me drown in silence all pious and polite.
Let's make a lot of noise! A different kind of light will fill the room.
I want my death to wake you up
and clean you out. And as I end I'll hear you shout.

SHE
No, no, no!

AUNT
(V.O.)
But I will go.

When I watched that portion of the film, I was blown away by the truth in it. In so many memorial services, we see printed on the programs these saccharine poems written in first person. Each saying how we should not cry, should not be saddened. That our hearts be glad because our loved one is at peace and happy. God just wanted one more voice in His heavenly choir. And while I know these are meant to comfort those who mourn, I question how true the sentiment is.

I suppose I'm sounding a little bitter.

I loved the truth in Aunt's monologue. I don't know if Uncle Nofre would give voice to this poem. I'm sure he would never cop to it. But don't we all privately harbor the desire expressed here? Don't we all want to be cried and wailed out? Because I know, I know that this is how I'm mourning my uncle. He is a part of me that I cannot bear being torn away. My eyes are red-rimmed, and sleep comes only from pure and utter exhaustion. I can barely leave my house. I cry at every turn. I cried at the gas station while I waited for Hubby to fill the tank. I cried talking to the ticketing agent on the phone. I cried while walking the aisles at Safeway. I am to the point that I don't even try to hide the tears. I just let them flow and hope that stony silence will suffice if a stranger asks me what is wrong.

If I could scream at Heaven and change the events of that day, I would, until my throat went raw.

I wish that I could turn back the clock and call him before he went into surgery. Just so I could selfishly remind him that he needs to wake up at the end of all of this. He forgot that step. Just so I could tell him that Princess is waiting for the promised sleep over at his house in August. Just to remind him that my son has plans to bunk with him when he goes to University of Hawaii Manoa in 7 years. Just so I could hear his voice one more time and tell him those words. The three short words that are supposed to sum up all that he meant to me and means to me still. If only my phone call could have encouraged his heart to take up its life sustaining rhythm again.

But instead I have to focus on the blessings. I got to talk to Uncle a couple of times last week. I still have his voice on my answering machine. Not a week went by that he didn't call and ask how the kids were faring. I got to see him almost every day when I was there in October. On my last night in Hawaii, I got to see him cantor at mass and we had dinner afterwards. He got to spend 2 full days with Lil'T while Mom was recovering from her surgery. Yes, these were the blessings.

And still, my heart is left wanting more.