The Oscar’s were on this weekend, and I didn’t watch them. I could have. Years ago I would have. But for the 7th year in a row I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.
In fact, I forgot that Sunday was the 89th Academy Awards until I happened upon a photo of Janelle Monáe in her dazzling gown. In the past that would have been enough to draw me in, but not anymore.
Instead I kept the T.V. off., did some random stuff around the house, and after about 10 minutes of scrolling on Facebook the next morning I got a pretty comprehensive recap of what I missed:
There were stunning gowns and fashions that failed.
Hair that delighted and hair that frightened.
Diversity was represented.
Both subtle and overt political statements were in full effect.
JT was, well, JT. *swoon*
The epic snafu that led to the most memorable ending in awards show history. Ever, ever, EVER.
And no, Hidden Figures is still not Hidden Fences.
Yep, all that in a few minutes of surfing the web.
I know a lot of people for which that would have been more than enough, but I was never that person. I was never that person until my dad died and it just hasn’t been the same since.
Movies and my dad were synonymous. He loved them and the love I have for them undoubtedly comes from him. When we went to the movies it was always a special event.
We had to get there early to get the best possible seats, and long before the previews aired. We sat with great anticipation awaiting the title to flash across the screen, while we enjoyed buttered popcorn, a very special treat.
We didn’t talk once the movie started. There were probably a few times we forgot to breath. We watched intently with joy and intrigue, and a brand new giddiness each and every time.
We bonded over characters and discussions of the plot. Sometimes there were tears. Always there was wonder. The experience was all encompassing.
It was so very special.
When it came time to watch the Oscar’s, it was like the culmination of our year of amazing movie adventures. You could find us watching the pre-show with our snacks and predictions, and there was absolutely no way we were missing a moment until the last winner was (correctly, hahaha) announced.
It was our thing, our moment…it was ours.
And when he died it was gone.
After he passed away from the cancer, there was some discussion about throwing an Oscar Party in his honor each year. When it didn’t happen the first year I told myself it was still too fresh.
Then another year passed. And another.
The truth is I never made an effort because I knew it wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t be there to compare notes with or steal my snacks. He wouldn’t be there racing to the bathroom during the commercial break (this was before DVR people, LOL) or laughing his uproarious laugh.
He wouldn’t be there with that look of pure happiness in his eyes, and when they showed the clip of that movie, the one I knew he’d love because it spoke to him, I wouldn’t be able to tell him how much it meant to me too.
Every time I go to a movie, it’s magic, no matter what the movie’s about.
The movie magic is real to me, because of the memories I will always have.
I will continue to feel all the feels when I walk into that theater, and I will have more unforgettable moments with my daughters and my man.
But when they ask me one day if we can watch this award show, I’m not sure what I’ll say. Maybe by then I’ll be ready, or perhaps this will all be a thing of the past.
But either way I will tell them that movies are spectacular and the magic is real…
And that the Oscar’s just aren’t the Oscar’s without the the presence of their Grandpa John.