I just deleted my Netflix account, but ended on an unexpected note of exceptional, emotional pain and bliss in equal measure.
I have never been so strongly effected by a movie or series.
It finished and I started to uncontrollably sob. I do shed the odd tear, usually to animal or feel good stories, but this let something out I feel may have been hiding for a long time.
Nothing to do with it, just a favourite place.
Life is, simple as that and Train Dreams celebrated that in every way possible.
Loss, love, time, hope, dept, connection.
I hope they get a lot of recognition for bringing this beautiful and shattering story to life, but a part of me feels the makers have already had their reward.
The takeaway for me, not that it matters I guess, is how lives lived often go undocumented and may seem pointless in the eyes of all except those who live or share them.
I wished that for Robert, a fictional character, but so very real as a representative of many like him, that there would be a record made of who he was, what he did and who loved him (which of course I was watching), but with the deepest sadness I realised that Robert, was representing the bulk of us, the incredible sea of lives lived and so soon forgotten.
Even if a record is made, like a photograph (like the one sadly lost in the fire), or a written record, that time would be the final arbiter of its importance.
Anything any one does for their own immortality is pointless in the long run, the only thing that matters is the effect we have on people here and now. If life is ultimately pointless, then the only thing that matters is how we live it. Anything we do to impress or subjugate others is also ultimately an untruth to ourselves.
Even mountains die, as do suns and even gods. The only part of history that matters is the bit you are living in now.
Watch it or not, I am just happy that I have, against my better judgement to be honest, to know it exists like the remains of our natural world are out there, whether we see them or not.
No more words.