A while back I rented Stephen King's 1408.
At the time, I lived alone. Studio apartment. It was late at night when I started the movie. The beginning was creepy. Made my skin crawl. I had to shut the movie--figured I'd never get to sleep, not with the lights off, anyway.
The next day, when it was still light out, I finished the movie. And although it continued to creep me out ... something else happened.
The secondary story became more apparent. That's what a good movie, a good book contains. A secondary story. 1408 had one I did not expect.
See, the movie is about this writer. He visits haunted hotels, and sleeps in haunted rooms, and writes books about the experience.
When he is more or less dared to stay in a New York hotel, specifically in room 1408, it is the first time he ever encounters anything truly paranormal. Usually his writings uncover fakes and frauds. But this time, in room 1408, all of that changes ...
What the "ghost" does, however, is show the writer flashes from his own past.
And it was this writer's past that just wrecked me emotionally.
(MOVIE SPOILER--Don't keep reading if you don't want to know what happened in the film).
The writer was married. They had a young daughter--this pretty little girl, maybe ten.
Without much detail, we learn that the young girl is sick, dying, and eventually, died.
This guilt of not being able to do more to save his daughter, ruins the writer's life.
He leaves his wife. He buries himself in his work.
But the haunted room brings clips of his daughter to the forefront.
And at one point in the movie--she is there, in the hotel room with him. She tells him she loves him, that she wants to be with him and with mommy.
I kept expecting her to change into some horrid creature.
That never happened.
Instead, he hugs his daughter, tells her everything will be all right. He assures her that this time, this time, they can stay together.
And then she dies in his arms.
She goes limp. Lifeless...
He lost his daughter a second time.
The point of this blog is personal. I'm divorced. Didn't want to be. But there was nothing I could do. There was no saving the marriage.
I have three kids. They are my life. My world. My everything.
And though I live only a handful of miles away from them, and though I get them every other weekend, and one day during the week, and see them at school and sports events ... I can't help but feel, sometimes, like they have died. Or that I have.
The loss I feel is that great. The pain is that powerful.
And what is worse, at the end of each visit with them, when I take them back to their mother, I feel like they are dying on me a second time, or that I am. Every time.
It never gets easier.
Can't imagine it ever will.
I was that writer. John Cusack's character. Helpless, as I watched my kids slip out of my life. Lifeless am I each time I take them back to their mother ...
So, as I watched this writer in this movie writhe in agony over the loss and second loss of his daughter -- I was overcome with emotion.
I cried. I sobbed. It was uncontrollable. It lasted for what felt like forever.
It was a horror movie. Supposed to be scary.
And instead, to me, it was the saddest movie I'd ever seen. The realest movie. The rawest.
There is no real point to this blog.
Just that, to overcome the gloom and depression I feel, that sometimes sinks in, I thought I needed to write out my feelings.
If you read this, if you pray for people, please consider praying for me. Pray for my kids.
Divorce is awful. But when kids are involved, it is down right evil.
I know that God fills us when we are empty.
But at times, I feel more empty than ever imagined, than anyone should ever feel.
Author of the suspense thriller, The Molech Prophecy