Tonight I experienced a few moments of self-discovery. Not the psycho-therapy breakthrough kind of self-discovery. Not figuring out who I am. No, this is far more painful. It's the kind of self-discovery where you figure out who you were. What your life was like.
Almost seven years ago, in early December 2003, the Sci-Fi network aired a two episode mini-series, an updating of a 1970s science fiction classic, which had ridden the coat tails of Star Wars to the small screen. Battlestar Galactica was well received and, ten months later, the mini-series became an hour-long show on Sci-Fi.
I was working at Starbucks (yeah, I know) at the time, and Jen caught up on the mini-series just as the regular show was beginning. It took a month for her to convince me that it was worth my time (which I recall being a song and dance I put her through several times., and I have no idea why I was such a jerk about new things.) But when she did, it became one of *our* shows. One of the things that we changed schedules for. I recall us sitting on the floor of our bedroom at Centennial Trace with warm crusty bread, about five kinds of gourmet cheeses and salami, some grapes and a bottle of wine...getting ready to watch the premiere of the third season. It was a big deal to us. It was something that we talked endlessly about, what did this mean, or what would happen next, or how will that change this or that relationship.
I left before the last season of BSG aired. I don't think Jen even watched the end of it. I did. I had to. It was just something I had to do...see out the end of the thing that was ours.
But how does that relate to self-discovery?
Most of my memories of the last decade are "me and Jen" memories. Going through some hard-drive maintenance on some old hard-drives this evening, I found some old photos of Jen, me, family gatherings, vacations...nothing spectacular...but memories. Little things. In order to place what was happening in our lives, I read some of our old blog posts, remembered some of the wonderful times we had together. And I realized that those memories, like BSG, are in the past. For me and Jen, it's unlikely that there'll be any new memories like the bread and cheese. I won't have any new memories of me and Jen swimming across the cove at Lake Burton, or making fun of award shows together.
If I'd found the photos three months ago, it would probably have devastated me, tonight it was a sharp ache and an hour or two of sadness.
There are a few TV shows that we'd watch start-to-finish in chronological order from time to time -- Buffy, Angel, Coupling, Father Ted, Millenium, Dead Like Me...I've decided to re-watch BSG this winter. Not because I'm pining for some past that's gone, but because remembering the old days doesn't have to bring sadness. Maybe before the fleet gets to Earth I'll find my own way home -- wherever that is -- too.
This is my favorite poem, it's by Christina Rossetti, and it's called "Remember."
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Sure, it's about the wanting your partner to be happy after your death, not the sadness I have felt for the last six months. But tonight it feels okay to remember and be sad.
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