Let's Keep Getting Excited About Life ✨
Heaven and the Boston Legal episode that made me ugly-cry.
Hi, it’s me.
Thanks for being here on this fine Wednesday, or whenever it is that you’ve opened this email. It’s sunny in Seattle today, but we call this Fake Spring. You may see die hard Pacific Northwesterners skipping work to be outside1 or driving with their convertibles open, even if it’s only fifty degrees. We know how rare the sun is this time of year, so we soak it in when we can.
Last week I wrote about people who died that were important to me - my mom and stepdad. You can read that one here if you missed it. Thank you for sharing your own stories of grief in the comments (I encourage you to go back and read them). I feel like grieving is the most universal thing of all the things we experience, and I will never tire of sharing and receiving stories of sadness and loss. I’ve been working on some sad stories for the book I’m writing, and the gloominess is bleeding over into this space a little. If you don’t mind, I have a little more about grieving to share…
In the mid 2000s Bryan and I were big fans of the ABC series, Boston Legal. Every episode ended with lawyer colleagues Alan Shore and Denny Crane drinking cocktails and smoking cigars on their legal firm’s balcony. The two are best friends, and some of these conversations were quite intimate. In Season 5, the onset of Denny Crane’s dementia – which he codenames Mad Cow Disease – is becoming more noticeable to others. Over the course of a few episodes, Denny and Alan’s balcony conversations turn toward death and the after life.
From Season 5, episode 10 –
Denny: “Are there clothes in heaven? And are we as we were when we were young, or are we as we were when we died?”
Alan: “Is that important?”
D: “Well it is to me – I don’t want to go through the rest of eternity with the Mad Cow.”
A “I think you are in heaven as you were in the best of times here on earth.”
D: *whispers* “Like right now…”
A: “Like right now.”
D: *raising his glass to the sky* “Thank you.”
This scene hit me hard when I watched it back in 2008. Our beloved family dog had just died, I was still grieving my stepdad’s death three years earlier, and my mom was already showing early signs of dementia. By the time the credits rolled, I was in full Ugly Cry mode.
My mom and Gordy’s relationship was solid — they were affectionate mushy-in-love types. I grew up watching him slide up behind my mom in the kitchen to plant a kiss on her cheek or wrap her in a big bear hug. When Gordy died after twenty-something years of marriage, my mom became obsessed with whether or not he was able to see her from heaven and watch over her. They were both lifelong devout Christians, and in his illness they found peace in the belief that Gordy would soon be in heaven with Jesus. But in the couple of weeks I stayed with her after the funeral, my mom kept wondering if Gordy was too busy basking in the glow of Jesus’ presence to pay attention to her. Did he care about her anymore? Could he see her? Did he miss her? If she talked to him could he hear her?
I didn’t know the answers to these questions and didn’t know how to respond. I was a Christian and believed in heaven as my mom did, but until that moment the specifics of heaven and how it worked didn’t really matter to me. I’ve always been a staunch realist – a trait that benefits me in problem solving but sometimes blocks my sense of imagination and wonder.
My realism in this moment defaulted to searching for theological facts about heaven. What did the Bible say on this matter? I finally called my pastor for advice. After I explained my mom’s concerns and wondered how to respond theologically, he graciously and wisely suggested it didn’t matter. She wanted comfort, he said, not theology. She missed him and wanted to feel close to him - just go with that, he said.
Realism doesn’t save us or heal our wounds — we have to imagine our way back to wholeness.
But I’ve been thinking about this Boston Legal scene for another reason — for the excitement present in Denny’s voice as he whispered, “Like right now!” His meaning felt both present and timeless, as if just by living, he was experiencing the best of times regardless of the day or his age.
In the episode following this one, Alan and Denny’s balcony conversation once again circles around dying and the seriousness of Denny’s failing mind. A plot point in the story is that Denny is trying to gain access to a drug that is not yet approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration but is thought to delay the effects of Alzheimers. He wants this drug and will do anything to get it.
“And even if I fail,” he says, “they say if you keep getting excited about life, the blood rushes to your brain better!” [long pause] “I love life, Alan, even if it kills me.”
My mom loved life, and I imagine that she always felt like she experienced the best of times. She had love, a strong community, and a faith in God that comforted her. My husband Bryan loves life, too, and whenever I get into my Eeyore “Yeah, but…” mood, he reminds me that we’re experiencing the best of times and we have much to be thankful for. I love him for that.
I started keeping a thankfulness log in my journal, documenting at least one thing every day that I’m thankful for. As I get older and the arthritis in my knees and hips slow me down long before I thought I’d experience physical limitations (52 is still young!!), I need the daily reminder to keep getting excited about life, to keep the blood rushing to my brain.
What are some recent moments that got you excited about life?
I’d love to hear about it in the comments. I posted a few of my moments in a video below.
Thanks for reading. Until next time,
Jen
A few moments from April that got me excited about life:
I love my 1SecondEveryday app. I’ve used it on and off over the years, but last year when Bryan was going through cancer treatment I used it daily — looking for something to capture throughout the day kept me grounded in the moment. I’ve continued the daily practice this year. Here’s my 1SecondEveryday from April (It’s a lot of pets LOL):
I would *never* skip work, obviously. Besides, I’m working at my organization’s big fundraising gala all afternoon and evening. INSIDE A CONVENTION CENTER. No sun for me today.
Wise pastor. This was beautiful. I know those ugly-cries well, especially at the most unexpected times.
What excited me? I work on being present so I can notice and appreciate all the little things. My dog staring at me right now, this piece…
I'm reading "Falling Upward" by Richard Rohr right now and he's talking about the first half of life being a struggle to find happiness versus the second half being finding happiness where you are. I am bad at this, but it's slowly getting easier. I can tolerate running in the rain knowing that I have a dry house to go home to. I can tolerate grief knowing that it is a sign of great love.