When 'cool' things happen, I think of them

Batman

 

After standing outside for what seemed like a half an hour and holding off our position in the front of the line, we eagerly handed our tickets to the usher and scurried towards the theater for Batman showing in one of Denver’s Downtown movie theaters. First through the doors, we quickly staked our claim, parking Craig in one of the theater’s few wheelchair viewing spaces. This was the first movie-going experience where Craig needed reinforcements and it came in the form of Mom’s wheelchair. But, the viewing angle from such a short distance to the larger than life screen was too extreme for Craig; he needed to move back (as would anybody!). We helped Craig to a seat a few rows from the main aisle, where the majority of people who had a TRUE opportunity to CHOOSE a seat would sit. (Folks in wheelchairs might well come away with hearing and vision problems after sitting so close to the screen. Sheesh.)

 

As I watched Batman, I couldn’t help but think of Mom and how much she likely anticipated seeing this blockbuster of a movie, and would have been there in the row with us had she the opportunity. I could see her staring at the screen, completely locked into the movie--the images bouncing off of her glasses. A few more weeks and that would have been so.

 

Rome

 

Jill inserted disc one of the Rome series into Craig’s DVD player as others gathered their respective laptops and caffeinated beverages before finding their seats. Craig waited patiently in his hospital bed; his RT-D2 supplemental oxygen tank hovered just over his right shoulder, giving him extra oxygen to aid his increasingly labored breathing. I remember being skeptical of the series as characters were introduced and sex scenes streamed along as common as floats in a Macy’s day parade.

 

As the days passed and Disc 1 was replaced by Disc 3 and Disc 4, we were hooked not for the glorious content of Rome, though it was rather entertaining, but because it made Craig happy. It had become something he looked forward to with each new day. Tired as he was, he would always find the strength to stay awake through an episode, sometimes two.

 

One night, I vividly recall it taking him every ounce of energy and determination to utter the whispered words, “Are we going to watch Rome?”  His eyes were wide, excited, focused; his eyebrows curved upward with a hint of concern over the effort it took just to speak. Every word took concerted effort. I remember just how he looked, just how he sounded—the last word said in crescendo in as much a question as it was a plea. This was the last night we watched Rome together.

 

A few weeks later, after we brought back Craig’s belongings, Dad, Diane, Jill and I watched the final episode of Rome, and I couldn’t help but think of Craig and how much he would have enjoyed seeing the grand finale. A few more weeks and that would have been so.

 

Obamarama

 

Jill and I stood on a grassy Virginia hill among thousands of energized Obama rally-goers. We danced to cheesy music, and rolled our eyes to sleepy Casio music from what could only be Kenny G/Earth, Wind, Fire karaoke winners as we awaited Obama's arrival and subsequent speech. The air was crisp and thick with the feeling of witnessing history. “Heyyyyy!”  Somehow, through the sea of faces, Steve managed to not only find us but sneak up on us. We stood together with Craig’s best friend, listening to Obama’s speech, each of us wishing Craig could be there with us.

 

Craig was active in the Obama campaign before he fell ill and would have been a delegate for the DNC. He would have loved hearing about the rally—Mom, too. We would have surely captured the moment through speaker phone. And, as history was made the next day, we would have surely conference called each other in elation of witnessing history. A few more weeks, a few more months, this would have been so.

 

From the everyday occurrence to celebrated marks in American history, not a day passes where I don’t think of them and wish so desperately that I had them here to share in the moment.

 

It's during these "cool" or "neat" moments, when I miss them the most … -- E