Buried pain

I spent the day running errands--going to the credit union, getting a haircut, going to the bookstore, going to donate a pint of blood and then doing some food shopping. Now I'm back home and just flipped on the TV to see the last half hour of Superman.

I just watched the part near the end where Superman (played by the late Christopher Reeve) finds Lois Lane dead in her car. I never understood his attraction to her (but then I don't truly understand any man's attraction to women except as friends--of course, that's another story). But that's irrelevant to this post.

As he flies off into the sky to fix this tragedy, as only he could do, he is stopped by a warning that he shouldn't interfere in human history. With that, he hears voices and remembers key moments in his personal history. As it all goes by, he hears his own voice: "All those things I can do. All those powers. And I couldn't even save him." With that, he gets a look of pure determination and continues on to make things right.

He's remembering his own anguish when his father died. Just hearing those words and knowing what he was remembering, I started crying. This never used to happen, but I've found that certain things can get me upset nowadays. Since I started losing some of the most important people in my life, I've developed a reservoir of pain. It seems that it's always in there, ready to be tapped. My Dad died over 8 years ago, and my Mom's gone almost 3 years now. Part of this may come from my having been in a "be strong for the family" role that didn't do much to let me grieve and let the pain out. But I think part is just that there's so much pain.

I wish I knew of a better way to cope with it, but I don't. Maybe this is my coping mechanism. For years to come, I'll let the pain out and continue to grieve in silly little ways like this.

*sigh*

I think I'll go start a fire in the fireplace and read my new book.