Thank you very much
Of course, the song was reprised with real movie gratitude after the big Christmas morning character conversion.
Being the silly, sentimental thing that I am, I cried during the final scenes of the movie. That's just what I do. I always have, and I probably always will. I cried a little harder as I remembered how R. used to fondly tease me about my movie tears. He thought they were sweet and somehow charming. That's one of the reasons I loved him so much. So I cried today, and then like any good southern woman (See Steel Magnolias -- "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."), I smiled and laughed for a moment, grateful for a good memory.
I've had quite a few tears of more sincere origin lately. Since Thanksgiving, there have been five deaths among friends and their families, including a young friend of my daughter. Deaths touch me a little harder than they used to. My wounds, though healing, are still tender. Somberness takes up more room in my makeup now.
In a weird way, I'm particularly grateful for Charles Dickens today. In books and stories, he never ran from the shadows of the holiday season. Death, disease, hunger, disappointment and sadness claim their place in this holiday season whether we want them to or not. I've been reading Dickens since childhood. His books and the movies created from A Christmas Carol helped created a longing for some fantasy Victorian Christmas. I can so see myself in some fabulous gown, barely able to breathe in the essential corset, playing childish games at his nephew's Christmas dinner. They've also helped prepare me to handle real sadness when the rest of the world seems to be celebrating and to trust that I will celebrate again.