Write a commentThe tailend of 2008 was a strange one for me.
I was introduced to a woman who started school at SUNY Oswego. The two of us became close almost as quickly as we stopped talking. She was an artist, but she had a bad drinking habit. Many of her "confessions", if you want to call them that, would come out after a few drinks. In the cold light of day, she'd deny better than any politician you know.
Sometime in December of that year, I came home from work to see that my parents' vehicle was not in the driveway. Confused, I called my mother. Apparently, while my father was brushing the car off, he got winded badly enough that my mother thought it wise to take him to the emergency room.
At the time, it seemed like nothing. My father had been sick or in the hospital many times only to get out shortly after. Notoriously, he had to have his kidney removed and it didn't phase him.
My mother, the eternal worrier, said, "Don, what if you don't come out of the surgery?"
My father just shrugged. "Then I guess I'll be dead. You'll get over it."
Considering his cavalier attitude, we never really worried he'd make it out of any sticky health situation. We just figured there would be a couple of weeks where we'd have to visit him in a hospital and he'd be back in no time. It was just what we expected.
This time was different.
He'd go to a hospital, get discharged and by the next day, he was feeling awful again. He was ultimately transferred to a hospital up in Syracuse after Christmas because the hospital in Oswego couldn't figure out what was going on. It was a confusing and somewhat scary time.
I visited him at the hospital in Syracuse. He was happier than a pig in slop. He was one of the few people that enjoyed hospital food. When I got there, he had just been served. The smell made me gag. He started to eat but was at such an angle that he kept spilling food.
He looked at me and said, "You know, you could feed me."
I laughed. "Are you out of your mind? You want me to feed you?"
"What did you come up here for? Just to watch me sit?"
I rolled my eyes, took the spoon out of his hand and began to feed him. He said, "You're not too bad at this."
He hadn't made a ton of friends while he was at the hospital as he was up late watching "The Honeymooners" and laughing loud enough to keep others in the wing awake. He couldn't wait to get home.
After a couple of days, he was home again, but on oxygen. My father was funny in ways that he didn't really understand. For the most part, if he was annoyed about something, he became funnier. It didn't make a lot of sense. He was supposed to wear oxygen until they could figure out what was wrong with him. He didn't like this. Not one bit.
What he did like was the fact that everyone in the house was waiting on him. My mother made sure he had his pills and she was cooking him breakfast with the correct amount of seasoning. My father was eternally grateful and continually showered praise on my mother's cooking. "Hun," he'd say. "These eggs. Wow."
The second Friday he was home, I was at work. I was told by my supervisor that I had to switch with one of my coworkers because he had to go to church Sunday mornings. I agreed to it begrudgingly. The following day, I worked until 2:30. I arrived home and my father was watching "Man of the West" with Gary Cooper. He asked if I wanted to watch it with him. After that, we watched "The Searchers". My father was big into westerns.
A little bit into "The Searchers", my father started to grumble. I turned and asked what was wrong. He took the oxygen out of his nose and tossed it to the ground. "This stupid thing." He then breathed deeply in and out. "I'm all dry!"
I started to laugh. "It's not funny, Adam!"
"It's a little funny."
He stood, going to the kitchen. I kept watching the movie when I heard him yell, "Great!"
"What?"
"I'm looking at my paperwork from the hospital. It says I have pulmonary hypotension. Your cousin (so and so) had that and you know what happened to her? She dropped dead!"
I laughed again. "Would you just get back in here?"
A little while later, my mother and sister arrived home and my mother brought my father food from McDonald's. He had been doing very well with his new diet and she figured he deserved a treat. Despite the fact it was presented as a "treat", she still brought him one of the healthier options from the restaurant. He ate and we all decided to watch "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull". All four of us being there, watching the movie and sharing a meal made me think things were returning to normal. We'd have all this behind us in no time.
We all started to doze off. I put on an episode of an HBO show called "The Hitchhiker". I had to be up in the morning for work so I waited for the episode we were watching to finish. I used the bathroom and said good night to my father. I was halfway up the steps to my bedroom.
"Hey, you want to watch "Custer of the West" tomorrow?"
Because it was only a couple of weeks after Christmas, we still hadn't made it through all the movies we received for the holiday. I bought him "Custer of the West" on DVD. My father had a weird fascination with Custer. He thought he was a fool, but he always read books on him and made sure to catch the films made about him.
I said, "Yeah. I get out at 4:30 so we can watch that."
"Okay. Good night, Honey Boy."
My father used to call me "Honey Boy". Never found out why.
The next morning, I went to work. It was bitterly cold but the sun was shining through the clouds. Around 8 or so, I turned around to see my cousin's husband.
"Adam, you gotta go. Your dad's back in the hospital. I can drive you."
"Is he okay?"
"We just...we gotta go."
I rushed to my locker, grabbed my coat and left. My cousin's husband's van was pulled up outside. I got in and we drove to the hospital. His son asked if I wanted to play Mario Kart on his GameBoy. My cousin's husband said, "Not right now."
He dropped me off at the emergency room entrance. My aunt held the door open for me. I walked into the room and my entire family was gathered around my father. They had attempted to revive him, but it was of no use. My father was dead.
It didn't make sense. We were supposed to watch movies later that day. He seemed fine before I went to bed. He was alive when I left. What happened?
I walked back outside the ER and called a friend. This friend and I recently had an argument to the point we weren't speaking. She was the first person I thought to call. I just remember standing outside and crying while my hand burned from the bitter cold. Nothing would ever be the same.
I get it; I'm not the first person to have a parent die. It's a bitter fact of life. My father was a good man. His goal was always to make sure people were safe. With him gone, I didn't feel safe anymore and I worried that I would never feel safe again.
There was an enormous outpouring of support from family and friends. People my father hadn't spoken to in years reached out to see if there was anything our family needed. When it was time for my father's calling hours, over a thousand people showed up to pay their respects. But that's the thing about when someone dies. The immediate period after the death, you have all the support you could need. The more distance there is between you and the death, the less people seem to care.
And it makes sense. There aren't a lot of people who were as close to your relative as you were. But it's the later times that are the most worrisome. That's when you have to learn to cope. Coping is not something I've ever been good at. Not sure why. When my father died, I really didn't know what to do.
We had people over. Food was dropped off. The wake and the funeral happened. Then we had one of those ridiculous Oswego snowstorms. Friday, January 16th, 2009.
The next day, I stayed home and felt paralyzed. I was hungry but couldn't eat. I wanted to do something but couldn't think of anything. I checked the local movie listings. "My Bloody Valentine" was showing at the Oswego Cinema in 3-D. It was the first 3-D movie to be shown at that theater.
My intense fandom of film came from my father and, while he wasn't much into schlock, it made sense to try healing in a movie theater. So, I went. It was a pretty decent crowd considering the weather. I put on the 3-D glasses and tried to relax. That movie at that moment was exactly what I needed.
Before you say anything, yes, I realize how ridiculous this sounds. My father was dead for less than a week and I was having a spiritual awakening at a 3-D slasher movie. But, it wasn't that. Somehow or the other, through all the blood and guts, I realized that things were going to be okay. The world was going to keep spinning. It would be difficult (and it still is over 17 years later), but it would eventually improve.
Similar to the original, 2009's "My Bloody Valentine" concerns a psychotic Harry Warden going around town and exacting revenge against the town. Similar to the original, hearts get ripped out and placed in candy boxes. There are some twists and turns. The 3-D effect is used to a ridiculous degree. But, it's all pretty charming. The actors all seem to know the kind of movie they're in. You actually care about the characters, putting this slightly above the original in that respect.
Director Patrick Lussier, probably best known for his career as an editor for films like "Scream", stages the kill scenes for maximum impact. Beyond just that, there's actual tension in some of these scenes. They're clever when you least expect it. Much of the pacing in the film is top notch because of Lussier's work as an editor. Besides just that, he also knows when things need to be campy or silly. The movie is an immense crowd pleaser for horror fans.
There is a scene that's somewhat strange. About maybe a third through the movie, there is a pretty graphic sex scene. Full nudity and all that. The man in it is one of the screenwriters. Wouldn't it be the least bit, I don't know, strange for the screenwriter to start the scene with the woman? I don't know. The whole thing seems a bit creepy. I can't imagine how that conversation went. Although, he does get killed pretty fantastically so I guess it evens out. Somewhat.
The end twist is a little convenient. I won't get into it here, but when you see it, you'll know what I mean. I feel there was a way to maneuver around concluding the film the way they did. But, it's kind of par for the course with the rest of the film. It is constantly over-the-top so the movie ending the way it did makes perfect sense.
All in all, "My Bloody Valentine" is a top tier comfort movie for horror fans. For me specifically, it always reminds me of the first time I saw it. When things seemed like they would never improve. Somehow, through the decapitations and impalements, I found something I never expected: hope.
I imagined my father sitting next to me in the theater that night, sighing in frustration and complaining about how nonsensical it all was. How he'd rather be home watching a Bogart or Nicholson movie. He had no sense of how loud he was so he would have disrupted the others in the theater. I thought about all of that and I became overwhelmed. I was probably the only person in the theater that night that was crying tears of joy.
Sometimes, the strangest things will restore your faith in living. For me, it was "My Bloody Valentine". Watching it makes me feel closer to my father and nothing, not even a deranged miner with a pick axe and a grudge, can take that from me.
My Bloody Valentine (2009)
Directed by Patrick Lussier
Cast: Jensen Ackles, Jaime King, Kerr Smith, Edi Gathegi, Kevin Tighe, Tom Atkins, Megan Boone, Betsy Rue
Runtime: 101 minutes
MPAA Rating: Rated R for graphic brutal horror, violence and grisly images throughout, some strong sexuality, graphic nudity and language
Rating (out of ****): ***
"My Bloody Valentine" (2009) is streaming on Tubi as well as all major platforms to rent or purchase.
