I think I’m about to drop some “deep thoughts” on you readers… or maybe just ramble some nonsense- let’s find out. Tonight I was able to screen the movie (based on the book by John Greene) The Fault in Our Stars and if you haven’t read the book, you should- and go see the movie when it’s out for general public viewing. I’ll try not to give anything away but if you’ve heard about it, you’ve probably heard it’s about teenagers with cancer and it’s a tear-jerker. That’s true– there was one point where it was a relatively silent and serious moment and you could hear a lot of people in the theater crying. I feel like almost everyone has dealt with the ugly “C” word at some point in some capacity and likely all parties involved have wished cancer didn’t exist. The sad truth, is that it does and is all too common.
Intertwined within the sadness that is cancer, the movie has a love story. Overall, I think it’s safe to say all true love stories are the same– you meet someone, feelings grow, you can’t imagine a world without them, and you know that you don’t have enough time together- certainly not as much as you’d like to have, whether you meet at 16 or 60. You might even have the feeling of wanting to be the first one to die just so you don’t have to live in that world without the other person, yet at the same time you almost can’t bear the idea of the heartache they would feel if you did pass first. I think at their core, everyone wants to be loved. To know you’re loved so deep that you make someone’s day better just by being alive doesn’t seem like a lot to ask, right? Love is a great and powerful feeling. But then I got to thinking…
This movie got me thinking about this probably because they had a love that was cut pretty short by death, an all too common side effect of cancer. It’s generally in times of crisis that we find out who really cares enough to be there and in what capacity. I wondered how it would feel to be terminally sick, and not be loved like that of which I previously spoke. And then I wondered if that made me kind of an awful person. Why would I want someone who loves me and can’t imagine a world without me to watch me deteriorate and hold my hand while they try to be there for me, all for them to go through hell and heartache after I die?
That kind of sounds miserable. Yet, so does going through something like that alone. If I found out tomorrow that I wouldn’t make it another year, I would be devastated by the news, but also devastated that there would be nobody to hold me and cry about it with me. I mean, sure, I have plenty of friends/family who would absolutely do that, but when you’re in love there’s one person who’s hug feels a little more comforting than everyone else’s.
Ideally, I’ll never get really sick, or fall in love with someone who becomes really sick. Ideally, I’ll meet a nice man who can’t get enough of my smile and turns me into a pile of goo with his and we’ll grow old together and die in our sleep all snuggled up. One thing I’ve noticed- life doesn’t work out how we “ideally” plan it. I do know that, selfish or not, I want a great love and all of the good or bad that comes with it.