Fugitive Heart-String

Last night I watched “The Fugitive” starring Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones. Chris used to say “That’s a GREAT movie.”

I lay on my back on the sofa with pillows under my head and closed my eyes, opening them for the parts that got my attention. I daydreamed, quietly crying in between scenes.

I wished Chris was there watching the movie with me. In the flash of a second, I even though about calling him up to let him know it was on. I yearned to open my eyes and see him sitting at the other end of the couch smiling at me.

When I could no longer keep myself awake (or half-awake) I turned off the television, blew out my candles and headed into my bedroom where I fired up the other tv to the same channel. I half-watched the rest of the film and when it ended, a voice announced that another showing of the movie was coming right up. I felt comforted. I needed it to be on. I needed to feel Chris.

With the help of a Tylenol PM, and since I can’t seem to fall asleep on my own these days, I drifted into slumber. I dreamed that Chris was standing before me in his black pants and T-shirt. I extended my arms way overhead, stepped close to him and brought them down, wrapping them around his neck just as I always did. We stood there embracing and Creej said, “It’s gone, Shneed. It’s gone.” , meaning his cancer.

I still feel comforted, and I feel as though our hearts are connected across the veil by a single, eternal heart-string.