You hear that fear... I'm facing you.
Happy Halloween! 2020 has been pretty scary already, so I haven't found myself getting into the witching season quite like I usually do. Fortunately, I rewatched the entirety of Buffy the Vampire Slayer this last Summer, in anticipation that I would be creating art of Willow Rosenberg.
My first formal introduction to Buffy the Vampire Slayer was from my ex-fiance, Scott. We spent a couple days together binge watching key episodes to tell the story, back when we called it a marathon. I fell in love with Willow right away. I identified with her pleasure in knowledge, her gentle nature, and her awkwardness. As her story unfolded, I watched Willow open her heart to the world and fall in love with life.
Another commonality we have is that Willow and I both lost lovers to the mortal coil. Willow lost Tara to a bullet and I lost Scott to a medical condition I still don't fully understand. My grace was that Scott and I had ended our relationship years before he died. His girlfriend at the time had reached out to me because she knew what we had before. I spent days in a haze of tears and confusion, stacking on guilt anytime I thought of Kayla and what it must have been like for her to have been close to him at the end of his life and to have to reach out to an ex of her now ex's to try to explain how he had died.
Rewatching Buffy this last summer, it was hard to watch Willow express her pain by lashing out at everyone around her. I understood and empathized with her pain. Death leaves a mark on those left behind, and a hurt heart does not make for a sound mind.
After Willow's anger subsided and she learned to grieve, Willow did get something I have never had. She had the chance to visit the grave of somebody close to her. It was a peculiar revelation to have while watching Willow grieve, but I've never had a grave to mourn at. I remember visiting an ancestor's grave when I was a child, but I was too young to know who I was visiting. I also remember when my great grandfather, great grandmother, and both of my grandfathers passed away. I remember the way death looked upon them and how I felt like my skin was completely transparent when they looked at me, my soul completely exposed. Even so, I don't know where any of my family is buried, and being estranged from my parent's makes me feel removed from much of my surviving family.
Even when my father-in-law passed away four years ago, my mother-in-law refused to have a funeral or memorial service for him, hording his ashes and allowing people in her town to think he was still alive and denying her family a grave to visit. It has been hard for Dallas to have lost a father and not have that closure.
Scott lived in Ohio, and when he passed away I had long since returned to Oregon, only having been in Ohio for him. I've never returned to Ohio, and while I met many people in his life, including his mother who was kind to me, I've always felt like visiting his grave would impose upon their personal lives as I was not nearly as close to them as I was to him.
Scott was only 28 when he died. He was 6 years older than me, and I am now older than he lived to be. I've never really considered this fact until just now, but it goes to show how time keeps marching on even when we're just trying to make it from one day to the next. Scott knew he would die young. Early in our relationship he introduced me to "If I Die Young", by The Band Perry. It upset me that he talked about his own mortality so flippantly. I was afraid he may draw death upon himself, but to him it was just a fact.
At the end of Willow's storyline, she works through her grief and she overcomes her fear of the darkness in her own human nature. She finds her inner goddess and becomes a hero. I'm still chasing my own inner deity, but at least I've learned to make room in my heart for more love.
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