No no, I'm not composing a suicide note. This scene, though, from Beetlejuice, often bubbles up to my consciousness when I'm thinking about how sad I am. Like, what else can I say? I'm really sad, my daughter is dead, she's never coming back, let me write about it, I'm really sad . . .
You know? I'm like a freaking broken record. That scene up there is ridiculous, as is that whole movie (" . . . having
It just sucks sometimes.
Ahem, all the time. The hurt heals over, but it's never all the way gone, and then I start picking and picking and picking at it until it's in full-bore ouch.
Like when I found myself sobbing at a wedding this weekend during the father-daughter dance. Never mind their song was Landslide:
Fortunately I have a short attention span so when I found this cool dyson hand dryer vortex thingy in the bathroom, I was amused enough to regain my composure.
Anyway. The little things, the big things, life . . . everything and anything reminds me of her. Of her missing.
Stop me if you've heard this one before.