Six Feet Over.
Maybe it's silly, but I woke up in the middle of the night on Tuesday morning filled with an immense sense of sadness. Really. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what would happen next, asking how I would fill the emptiness. Ultimately, I was asking, 'Can TV really do this to you?'
Yeah, yeah. It rots my brain. It's a ridiculous waste of time. It's a tool for escapism. But one has to admit, boob tube or not, Six Feet Under has been the best thing on it for years.
If I try to explain, the plot sounds nothing short of a soap opera. Nate's mysterious disease. Ruth's psycho husband. Brenda's pregnancy troubles. David & Keith's adoption battle. Claire's struggle to become an artist. It's so hard to talk about with someone who doesn't know the show. Forgive me if I have to spend a while processing this with people who understand.
Really, though, the revolutionary concept was the show's insistence on unabashedly confronting mortality, week after week. In a culture that does its best to ignore the looming spectre of death, 6FU had the courage to rub our noses in it. With tragedy, the mundane, and a good dose of humor, it took us to a place that wasn't necessarily comfortable, but definitely was good.
In the first season, Claire asks, 'Why do people have to die?' and Nate responds, 'To make life important.' Would we know beauty if our time to experience it wasn't limited? This is a show that at least dared ask the question.
In the end, I just have to remember that it will take some time. It's going to be difficult for a while, especially on Sunday nights. I will feel empty, alone. Sometimes happiness might seem an impossible dream. But I have to believe that one day, I'll get up and see the sun shining in, hear a bird, and know that things will get better.
And deep down, I may never stop missing them. That's what happens.
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