I watched the season premier of CSI tonight (thank you DVR). If you missed it, it was the follow up episode from last season when Warrick got shot (and obviously died, which we all knew was going to happen because real life Warrick - whose name escapes me at the moment- couldn't keep himself out of trouble. Or jail). So at the end of the episode they had the funeral for him and I sat on the couch and cried like I personally knew the character.
The last time I cried like that was the season finale of House when they killed off Amber.
I never used to cry at fiction. Not movies, not television, not books, nothing. But I am finding more and more all it takes is a cute commercial featuring fuzzy kittens and I get a little weepy (and I'm not even going to start on the chain-motivational-send this back to me to show me you love me- emails that always have cute photos of puppies and kittens and babies.....) But more and more I find I cry easier and easier.
I think its because I am getting older and death is just kind of falling all around me. Just a few weeks ago, a guy who worked just a few cubicles down from me died. 39 years old, a professional body builder, has a heart attack while running on the treadmill at the gym. It wasn't like I was best friends with the guy, but we talked and laughed frequently at work and I miss him lots just because he was an all around nice guy who I enjoyed talking to - mostly because we shared the gym/nutrition/weightlifting interest. But 39 years old and he was the picture of health. That is only a few years older than Sherman.
And I didn't go to his funeral. I sit here on the couch and cry at fake funerals, and yet I can't get myself to attend one for someone I know. I think its because I knew it was going to be incredibly sad, and from what people tell me, it was.
But on to something slightly happier. I took my first BodyCombat class last monday and I have to say, I really, really liked it. I don't know if I have a shot in the dark of being able to instruct it, but it was a good class. Unlike step or aerobics which I am way too uncoordinated to do, the moves in this program are not nearly as complicated. So I will take my next two classes next week and hopefully I can start to get some of this down.
And as far as my last post goes with the comment about it not feeling like fall...we are officially past that now. Its cold, I'm grumpy, and the DH has not agreed to turn on heat yet. Pooh.
Next Post: My weekend in Couer D' Alene. Lez Fest 2008.
1 comment:
So sorry about your coworker - that's not only sad, it's scary and makes you think about your own mortality a little bit. I didn't go to a funeral until just a few years ago -- and let me tell you, it was a humbling experience. It made both Rich and I want to celebrate life afterwards, because it helped us realize how precious it is. Age does that to you.
Envious about the bodycombat!! Next time I'm in the Tri-Cities (currently looking like Christmas time unless our house miraculously sells before then), I definitely want to take a class with you!
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