LOST...and Found

It was another challenging day at school, one full of disappointing situations. By the time I packed my bag mid-afternoon, I was exhausted--physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I probably should have kept my mouth shut as I rode home with my husband. Instead I vented and shared my frustration with this poor guy who of course had just ended his own full day of work. He listened patiently, however. Still, by the time we arrived home I was quite tense. As we came into the house I set my bag down and took off my coat. My husband sweetly took it from me to hang it up. I stopped him and we hugged. That was nice but the stress of my day was still there.

My first thought was of preparing dinner for I knew that we had a concert to attend in a few hours’ time. I went to the fridge to see what was there and then went to the pantry. It was there that I heard the tv in the other room. My son was watching the final episode of the series LOST, our favorite show prior to it going off the air last year.

I stopped in front of the pantry shelves. My mind told me to look for a possible dinner to prepare. But my heart needed something else. Another 30 seconds passed as I stood staring and listening to the television in the other room. Then I closed the pantry doors and went to the family room. Without asking his permission to do so, I impulsively curled up to Paul on the sofa and although he chuckled, “What are you doing?”, he let me cozy up to him. We watched the last five minutes of the show together. If you’ve never watched it, let me simply say that the final few minutes of the LOST finale features an emotional scene where the characters of the entire series meet up in a church, a setting of their own design where they’ve arranged to find one another in the afterlife. Having affectionately followed the series for years, we had grown attached to the characters as if they were friends of ours. My children and I had followed the show for years together, talking, laughing, and guessing at the meaning of it all. We were die-hard fans of LOST. Watching the final scene again, it wasn’t difficult to suddenly relate to the character’s emotional reunion and to imaginine that of my own family and friends in Heaven someday. That’s when my tears began to fall.

There I was, lying next to my 12 year old son, crying softly. Paul sweetly allowed his mother to cry, never teasing me or getting up from the couch to get away from my nuttiness. Cradled on the couch together watching those five minutes of LOST, I realized the sweet irony of the situation. Suddenly, after several failed attempts to dismiss the day’s stress through other means, I had followed my heart and had cried it out in the arms of my son. I finally felt less “lost”.

I hope tomorrow is a better day. But how blessed I am to have the family I have. To have a husband so selflessly listen to me rant, to have a sweet boy like Paul put up with a teary-eyed, emotional Mom. Yes, I'd be completely lost without this family of mine. Pun intended.