I don’t watch many movies these days, with the exception of some Marx Brothers, Disney classics, "Lassie" or a Don Knotts box set with my kids.
But last night I stumbled on a movie I had heard about but had never seen: “I Never Sang For My Father.”
It’s an emotion-driven piece from 1970 that will resonate with anyone who ever had to make tough decisions regarding an aging parent. Or had to deal with the details of making funeral arrangements for a parent – which, I guess at some point is almost everyone.
Watching Gene Hackman as the son caught in the crossfire of dealing with father Melvyn Douglas’s declining health amidst ongoing and increasing expectations was fascinating, and more importantly, real. It was hard to watch, yet I couldn’t turn it off.
It brought back the increasingly blurry, but never disappearing, memories of touring a nursing home and ultimately helping to choose a casket. Excruciating then, excruciating now.
The movie end with the lines: "Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship." So very true, and from that relationship comes a lifetime of influence and memories that never go away.
Recently, the kids and I went through my boxes of old photos and mementos. They saw pictures of my mom and dad along with snapshots of me at their ages, which did not interest them all that much. My memories are obviously not important to them now, and rightly so. At the moment, their memories are mostly good and hopefully focused on the times we have spent together.
I would do anything to keep it that way.
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