Something interesting happened. I dragged Henry to the Hollywood Theater last night to see Hamnet. Yes, I know! Crazy – Henry willingly going to see to an historical fiction book adaption. But that’s not the interesting thing.

I read this book a few years ago and got really excited when I saw that there was a film adaption because in my head, this was a 5-star read. That’s how I sold Henry on it. “No really, I read the book and it was so good, you’ll love it.”

But then the night before, I checked Goodreads and I actually gave it 3 stars (lol) which is FINE, that doesn’t mean I hated it by any means, but it made me start to remember things, like it was “too descriptive” (god forbid! I’m in a hurry!) and “too Shakespeare-y” (LOL, obviduh?). But all of that said, I do remember that it made me cry and that is how I know that on a certain level, even for my eclectic / maybe pedantic taste, it was a good book.

We get there. STILL NOT SERVING BEER. But they say next week, they should have their renewed license. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad thing that I didn’t have a beer to nurse during what would become the most emotionally fraught 2.5 hours of my most recent years.

Not a spoiler as this is LITERALLY the premise of the book/movie, but when Hamnet convulses and dies in Agnes’ arms, my tear ducts nearly blew out. I was crying so violently that I had to cover my mouth and nose with a popcorn buttered napkin in an attempt to stiff back the audible wails that were threatening to burst out of me.

I sobbed as hard as I did the day Drew died because I felt like I was watching Drew’s death on the big screen. Drew was Hamnet. I was Agnes. I was shattered.

I have dreamt of Drew here and there since she died but she has appeared more frequently over the last few weeks, in such visceral and vivid vignettes that I wake up forgetting that she’s not here anymore. In my dreams, I can touch her. I’m carrying her. (That’s how I know it’s a dream because in real life she never let me pick her up lol.)

And then I remember she’s gone and I’m losing her all over again in real time. My Bambi. My Ursula’s Shoulder Pad. My Suez.

The trauma part isn’t as prevalent anymore – therapy did help with that – but I can’t help but wonder if the recent dreams culminating with last night was supposed to happen, like I’ve been “stuck” in a grief whirlpool and this pulled the plug. Because, I’ll tell you – when the final scene happened, where Agnes goes to London with her brother and sees that William has written a play about their son, and at first she’s like this is blasphemous but then she gets it, she really sees it and understands that it was William healing through writing and acting and it helps her get closure too and for the first time since Hamnet died, shes able to smile and laugh at the memory of him.

(I am so wrecked writing this.)

And I’m wondering, does Henry need to write a play about Drew? Is this what my takeaway was meant to be?! Just kidding, That would not be a good play, lol. Everyone would be talking in one word grunts. Like if a stick figure drawing was adapted to a script.

But honestly, for as emotionally spent I feel today, I think I needed that to happen. I think I needed to let myself cry THAT HARD again because I stupidly had myself convinced that I should be “over it” by now and “shouldn’t be” crying “that hard” anymore. No.

I’m still not over it. But last night made me realize that one day it really will hurt less and I will finally be able to look at pictures of her and smile and laugh, because brother I will tell you, that is not yet the case.

My therapist and I have some things to talk about next week, clearly.

But yeah, comparing the death of William Shakespeare’s son to the death of my cat and then opening the door when grief came knocking for the second time – that was an interesting thing that happened on a relatively normal Wednesday night.

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Also, before I go, Jacobi Jupe MADE this character. JFC, he wasn’t even in HALF of the movie yet his performance ran circles around Timothee Chalomet in Marty Supreme. It felt like he was actually dying and I was like NO MAYBE IT WILL SWERVE FROM THE BOOK AND HE WILL LIVE PLZ DONT LET HIM DIE I CANT DO THIS AGAIN.

ugh.

Fantastic movie. Absolutely moving performances. (Jessie Buckley was possessed AF in this role.) Stunning cinematography. I’m glad I saw it. I hope it wins more awards. I will never watch it again.

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