It’s hard to watch movies where a parent is lost in the first scenes, which is apparently a qualifier of becoming a superhero.
So while I’ve started to read reviews before I start watching to ensure I’m not smacked with a traumatic “mom in the hospital” scene in the first few seconds, I’ve also been led to wonder…
Is there something inherently necessary about the loss of a parent that allows superheroes to be superheroes? What if there is something about the pain/trauma/grief of this situation that unleashes superhero skills? What if part of the grieving is to learn how to shoot lasers out of your eyes, or run faster than anyone ever, or fly?
{My superpower of choice would be, by the way, to communicate with animals. Like the Mage from King Arthur, but less violent, which confesses I’ve watched King Arthur, and didn’t hate it. Judge me.}
While I’m waiting for access to my powers, I have come to believe that there is something connected here. There is something about this kind of grief, that opens up things within you that you couldn’t have previously known.
As long as I can remember, I’ve discerned my stepping into new and unknown things with the question, What’s the worst that could happen?
Perhaps finding an answer to that question, feeling the answer to that question, makes all of the life that comes after it a little riskier.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Now I know. And in that knowing, the smaller things feel less problematic. So even in the midst of this grief, I have done more, learned more, created more than I have before. I have been attacked in ways that would have left me reeling in previous years, but now I find myself thinking “Is this the worst? Nope, no it’s not,” and moving on. Sure, all the normal things of life still hurt. I haven’t acquired bullet-proof-ness. But they do hurt a little less.
What’s the worst that can happen?
Now I know. Little troubles, be damned. Bigger challenges, let’s go. Perhaps perspective is the greatest superpower of all.