A Letter to a son...

I just watched (most of) A Letter to a Son about his Father, which has reminded me, again, that I really need to know what I'm watching before I watch it.

I got hooked, naturally, by the description - a close friend of a murdered man goes on a journey to document the life and impact of one great man on the world, in hopes of preserving his memory for his son, who will never meet him. He travels overseas and across the US, filming stories and archiving photos, getting to know his friend more than he did in life. Finally, he meets the baby, who is temporarily in the custody of his grandparents.

They tell you from the start that it's the child's mother who murdered the father. They tell you about the delays and failures of the legal system and extradition. They tell you about the hopes of not only the grandparents, but friends and family everywhere... and how they would do anything for him, as he grows, and can't wait to tell him about his father.

What they don't tell you, until you've seen just how much love there was for this man, and is for his child, is that just a few months later, the baby is murdered too. The mother ties him to her chest and jumps into the ocean, committing suicide while out on bail. In one scene, you're told about the approaching hearing date where she'll be extradited and the grandparents will finally get custody. The next scene, she and the baby are missing, and two bodies, one a baby, wash up on the beach.

I was shocked; brought from a hopeful place and teary nostalgia, thinking of all the stories I know we want to share with Elliot, unexpectedly, straight to terror. Shaking and desperately afraid, I had to go check on Elliot, who was sleeping in his bed.

I shut off the TV, as if not watching could somehow mean these people who I'd so closely related to didn't really have to suffer this, that baby Zachary hadn't died. That the young doctor's son would know his father, and his parents would find peace in raising their grandson... How could they even survive this? I couldn't watch.

I went down the hall, and into his bedroom, and as I sat on his bed, he jumped a little in his sleep, startled by the sudden movement. I lied down next to him, putting my hand on his chest and feeling it rise and fall. My own heart was pounding, but it settled down as I felt him breathe.

I went back in and fast forwarded to the last few scenes. The letter that opened the movie was rewritten - where it had been addressed to the child, now it was a letter of gratitude to the grandparents, and an expression of the love and support their communities poured out to them. It tried to lift us back up, but for me, I couldn't come out of the dark.

Then they started in with the "If Only" bit. That, I couldn't watch. The grandparents wishing they'd tried to abduct him, wishing they'd murdered the mother... if they'd had a different judge, if only...

We can't change the past, and so to dwell on it, and blame yourself for not knowing what would come to pass, not preventing a tragedy - it's just piling pain onto pain. It's something I don't let myself do, ever. If I'd been home, if I'd called mom and David, if I'd made him keep Elliot... those aren't the things that happened, and so who knows if it would have been better or worse? I simply refuse to follow the train of thought.

I mentioned that I hadn't been sleeping well - I imagine tonight will not be better.

Funny how when I put Elliot down for bed, in his own room, I'd decided tonight we would start over with the whole Big Boy Bed, and get him used to sleeping alone... but I don't think I'm ready for that after having my heart ripped out like that. It's all I can do to write this down - all my instincts are telling me to get back to Elliot, NOW and protect him from some invisible threat, because dear god, look what can happen.

But to end on an up note, if that can be done, it does look like the tragedy has inspired lawmakers in Canada to rewrite bail laws when parents may be a threat to their children. It seems insane to me that any Judge could decide to give custody of an infant to a parent who was accused, with very substantial evidence, of murdering the other parent.

As for me watching movies? I'm only going to watch things somebody has pre-screened and warned me about the emotional gut punches. Because seriously, I'm not doing well picking them myself.

Yeah. I'm going to go startle my son again, and feel him breathe, and hope I can stop the tingling in my fingers and maybe get some sleep.