Lost

Jake and I have been rewatching Lost on Netflix these last couple of weeks- at least two episodes before bedtime, sometimes three.  Cory, Jake, and I watched the entire series together years ago, Jake being the brains of the operation as we all struggled to follow the plot, but in all actuality he was only eight or nine at the time, so for him, it's like a brand new show...he has forgotten all but the major characters and basic premise.  Me, though?  I remember most of it, and especially what it was like to watch it cuddled up on the couch with Cory on one side and Jake on the other, one of us always  called out for hogging the blanket.

We did Lost Pizza Night for the first couple of seasons, and I'd make homemade pizza.  We'd eat in front of the tv (shameful, I know, but quite delightful, really).  Then we went through the phase of baking cookies or brownies.  There was always something to share.

I remember how fun, if slightly awkward, it was for Cory and I to find ourselves lusting over Sawyer and Sayid with equal enthusiasm.  She used to say that whenever Sawyer entered a scene, I would thrust my chest out involuntarily.  Maybe I did.  She spent her fair share of time fanning herself at the sight of Sayid's burning gaze, so we were pretty even.

 I didn't experience anything like it with my mother until we went to Italy together years later and helplessly drooled over all those beautiful men.  Also, Mom has quite the crush on Liam Neilson, which I don't share, but quite enjoy watching.  It is so cute.

Invariably, I'll find myself crying while watching an episode of Lost with Jake because I can so clearly remember what it felt like when she was here and we were all together, our bodies in a line, shoulder to shoulder, everyone warm and alive... when the only danger was make-believe on the screen and our circle of safety was still intact.

  I haven't quite figured out how to remember her without it tearing me apart.  I wish I had a magic sieve so all the happy moments could float right to the top and  all the pain of her not being here would retreat down the drain. I wonder if that ever happens.  I kind of doubt it.  I think you can't have one without the other.  They are seamless, unavoidable partners.

To love and to remember her- it comes at a cost.  So if I seem to be embracing my suffering- as some have accused me of- I can only say, I won't move on without her.  I will never leave her behind.  And if it hurts to do so...so be it.  She's worth it.

If anyone figures out a better way- you know, a way to time travel, a cure for PTSD, or happens to invent that magic sieve, let me know.  I'd be all over it.