What We Leave Behind.

While in the grand scheme of things life is not too different for my family than it normally is right now, we are still part of our communities; our local community, our State, our country, our world. And things are unmistakably different out there at the moment. It is impossible not to be affected by this, both in tangible ways, but also emotionally.

I’m always the one advocating a PMA (Positive Mental Attitude), in difficult situations. It is your most valuable asset; without it, no matter how prepared you are for something, you will fail. My children probably think I’m a broken record on account of how often I bring this up to them. Keeping a PMA doesn’t mean that you can’t feel worried, or sad, or even fearful. It means that you don’t let those emotions drag you down into negativity or defeatism. I remember a scene from a WWII movie (although I cannot remember the name of the movie), where a bunch of people are holed up in a bomb shelter in London and as their city is being destroyed by German rockets above them, a father urges his daughter to sing the Beer Barrel Polka. She protests at first, and it seems like such a silly thing to do as a spectator, but soon enough the whole bomb shelter is singing, because music is hope. To do something joyful in the moment was their defiance to the evil that would destroy them. It is the same with all the videos emerging from Italy of people singing together on their balconies. Their music says: “We may be suffering, but we are still here. And this will not break us.” And it’s beautiful, folks.

I’ve been trying very hard not to be irritated with the children when they ask whether there will be circus camp this year, whether grandma is still coming to visit us in May, or when we can go to Dimond Center again. I have no answers for them. I just try to keep their PMA up in other ways. An extra chocolate here, watching a movie there; they are easy to please.

We had a really nice day yesterday, but at night I absolutely lost my shit, and it was over the final episode of Adventure Time.

In the episode, we see BMO one thousand years in the future from the time the show takes place, and inside his lair, right up front, is the casket of the Jiggler. The Jiggler is a character from one episode in season 1, but it is Altair’s favorite character. He would happily watch that episode every day.

Seeing that little casket just gutted me and I started crying. And then, looking around BMO’s room, I saw Lumpy Space Princess’ star, Lemongrab’s sword, the Ice King’s broken drum set… BMO was all alone, in a room full of treasures that once belonged to his friends; His friends who were all long gone.

It reminded me of my Grandpa’s Sweater I wrote about not long ago. I thought about all the little parts of ourselves we leave behind and of how sometimes these things are all that is left. I wasn’t really crying over a cartoon show, of course, I was crying for the state of the world right now. I was crying for all the people who, like BMO, have lost someone they love. I was crying because I worry for all the people I love; I want them all to still be here after the virus peaks. I want to still be here too, but I don’t want to be like BMO. That is why I don’t understand people who still are not taking this situation seriously; the people who think our measures to stop the spread of this pandemic are too stringent for a “small cost of human lives.”

I’m fine now. It was actually really cathartic to let my emotions out. I’m still human, not a soulless husk (glad we got that cleared up).