missing Mama

That's the truth of the matter.
That's the reason that I lost my mind and sobbed.
I even had to turn off the sound of the tv, trying to cry myself out and regain some semblance of control
And what had me so bereft?
Little fictional characters, coming to an abrupt end, unexpectedly.
Sigh.
I had known the first episode of the evening was the final one for "Quantum Leap".
I had known that... but I was expecting a happy reunion between Sam and his wife.
No.
The entire episode had been foreboding, taking place on the day - August 8, 1953 - of Sam Beckett's birth, with him appearing as his grown self, with aging to remind him he'd been out in the universe for five years.
White hair at his crown?
Wrinkles by his eyes?
Mementos of the hard lives he'd been party to for so long.
Okay... that's different, I thought.
Then, there was the matter of people showing up that looked like others he'd known...
like Jimmy, the kid with Down's Syndrome, and his brother...
and the Captain Galaxy look-alike...
and the characters Siggy and Gooshie, same names of folks in his time, but different people.
And then there was the whole business with Al.
Was the bartender, also named Al, supposed to be his guide this time?
Because the usual Al was trapped in the future, his mental telepathy broken down.
Sam had leapt, and no one from his time knew to when or to where.
And when the craggy, crippled, curmudgeon leapt out, it was such a shock that I cried.
What was going on???
Then the bartender Al and Sam had a philosophy conversation...
talking about the whole "righting wrongs, making things better" thing that Sam did...
what Sam had believed someone else was controlling...
and that Sam had believed someone else was choosing the destinations and people...
but that the bartender Al said that Sam was actually controlling.
That's when Sam leaped for what would be the last time.
He went back to the one leap that he had left something undone, the one leap where he knew he'd left too soon, the one leap when he had chosen to not right a wrong.
And he fixed it...
telling the woman that her husband, a POW, was still alive and would return to her...
telling the woman to not give up hope, to wait for her husband to come home.
And so she did.
And Al and Beth were reunited and had four daughters and were married 39 years...
but Sam Beckett never came back.
I just lost it when those words came onto the screen.
I mean, lost it.
I must have sat there for the next twenty minutes, sobbing still while trying to lose myself in the 7 PM episode, which was the first of the series...
which had none of the "righting wrongs" flavor, just a guy who knew the image in the mirror was not his own and a wife who realized the man who had just kissed her was not her husband, even though he looked like him.
That's when the episode ended and I gratefully turned off the tv, still stunned from the earlier episode, and realized I also felt a sense of betrayal.
Not once had Sam mentioned what was surely a personal reason for his quest to travel in time: a desire to see his father.
By the time the Quantum Leap project had become a reality, John Beckett had been dead for twenty-two years.
Twenty-two years.
And I am supposed to believe that loss was not a driving force for this scientist who had spent his life working toward the goal of time travel???
Especially when there were so many episodes when he was in Elkridge, Indiana, at a time when his dad was still alive, leaps where he took advantage of proximity to see his father or at least speak a few words to him on a phone.
Why wouldn't Sam and the bartender speak of that loss?
If I had that scientist's skills when Mama died, I would have sought that recourse.
Sam had been 21 when his father died.
That meant he had all of that time at college, gaining doctorates in multiple disciplines along the way, to gather the knowledge to build his time travel device, perfecting it by the time he was 43 years old and at the peak of his career.
If the desire to see his father had not been paramount, then why did Sam insist on being the test subject on the machine's first run?
Sigh.
So many questions that went unanswered, taxing my mind, vexing my emotions.
I felt absolutely drained of energy, and sad, sad, sad.
What a relief when my phone chirped that I had mail.
What a bigger relief when I saw it was my first niece, coming to my emotional rescue.
i thank You, God, for this telepathic bond we share.

her: "Thank you for the pictures." [I'd sent them to her after Sunday's cookout.]
me: "You are very welcome.
Good to hear from you.
Saw the last episode of Quantum Leap tonight and cried and cried.
That was at 6.
Then the first was on at 7.
I had just not expected the ending to be like that.
So abrupt."
her: [photo of her and Miyah]
me: "Gorgeous."
her: "I don't remember how it ended."
me: "He leaped to the day he was born, but as himself in a mining town.
No Al for most of it.
At end, Sam went back to see Al's first wife to tell her Al was alive and would soon return from being POW and she should wait for him.
Then Al and Beth live happily ever after and Sam never returns home."
her: "Humph. I will have to watch it."
me: "Last night he was Elvis.
That one was excellent."
her: "Love you. I am going to bed."
me: "He sang four songs!
Totally excellent."
her: "I think I remember that one."
me: "Love you too, my dear. Sweet dreams."
her: [invited me to join her and her mom for lunch in Richmond Hill]
me: [yes, if okay with her mom. What time?]
her: "When the sun is highest in the sky."
me: "High noon!"
her: "Is there a low noon?"
me: "That was never mentioned in Westerns. Go figure!"
her: [photo of low noon as per google]
me: "So, that's to cover you being late?"
her: "Yes!"
her: [little clip of Boo going to bed in Monsters, Inc.; she knows I adore that movie]
me: "Good night, Boo."

Then, I cued up TBS and watched "Last Holiday", snuggled into the loveseat, enjoying every minute of this sweet Christmas movie.
Yes, I've seen it before, that's how I knew it was perfect for tonight, when mothering was needed.
Now, after two hours of straight snuggling, I feel cherished and calm; perfect ending of the day.
(smile)
i thank You, God, for leading me to this loss adjustment furniture.