A Bridge to Terebithia

When I saw the advertisement for the movie Bridge to Terebithia I recalled D.J.’s recommendation. I decided to make an occasion of it and invited a woman friend to dinner beforehand as well.

The movie was engaging, with a twist we didn’t expect. An unexpected death dumps the audience into a funeral; there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, certainly not my friend and I. There was something about those tears that I’m stretching to describe as being exquisite. A hard fact like death was filled with an awareness of the intransigent nature of life and that awareness feels beautiful, perfect, and right. Only a movie house death could afford me the luxury of those tears and the opportunity to observe myself in grief from a distance.

That awareness of how brief our time here is acted similar to a meditative state in that it altered consciousness, or to use a 60’s love child phrase, the vibrations went up. Every person, (it was mostly children) in that theatre had their vibration rate accelerated to some extent or another.

By the time my father passed four years ago I had mostly recapitulated a dysfunctional childhood. While I was distraught with grief I was also aware that Father’s death had some how been perfectly timed for the living.
In the weeks after his death it was clear that my vacation in limitation was at end. My psychic abilities were sharpened by grief; I was more empathic, more telepathic, more whatever I needed to be.

My father spoke of things from death that he had been tongue tied about in life. He told me how proud he was of me for leaving Ontario and moving my little family to B.C. He told me how happy it made him that I had chosen him to be my father. He told me every secret I had wanted answers to, and the answer was the same every time; I love you Anne. He told me as I stood beside his coffin giving an eulogy on behalf of his six children. He told me about himself as I looked into the faces of the people who loved him, many of whom I didn’t know. I had to tell every one what he was telling me too. He wanted us comforted; he always was one to take care. I was comforted.

Returning to the movie that brought up the subject of death in an unexpected but perfect way…Dad’s death was a Bridge to Terebithia.