What's happened, happened: Science Fiction and Grief

Note to the reader: This post includes a lot of science fiction themes and may be unsuitable for linear thinkers. 

Just kidding- you should read it anyway. 😜 

It is hard to believe, but as August sets in, we are only weeks away from the 1 yr anniversary of Liam's death. There are days when I hold my breath as I open Facebook because I know I will be invited to relive the weeks and days leading up to that wretched weekend. And like any parent who wishes things had gone differently, I begin to pick apart those days and moments, wondering if perhaps I could have done something that would have altered the course of his future. The answer is neither yes nor no- the alternative endings live only in a foggy space in my mind. 

As a great lover of literature, specifically Science Fiction (SF), I have been processing my grief through that lens recently. This confession may turn me into a nerdy caricature of myself in the eyes of my readers, but I don't mind. Regardless if you enjoy SF or don't see what the point is, we all process grief in what-ifs. For me, SF is the perfect way to explore that part of our sadness. What if things were different? What if I had done this or that instead? Part of processing grief is an endless cycle of the 5 stages of grief (which is its own form of time travel). Bargaining in particular has become a feedback loop- a special kind of Hell. Like many people who have experienced a traumatic event (such as a car crash or an assault), I time-travel back to the events over and over again, attempting to play out what would have happened if I or the on-call cardiologist had made different choices. Most of the time, I cannot prevent the onset of this replay and every time, I view my actions as being pivotal in the death or survival of my son. 

I recently watched Christopher Nolan's Tenet- which is a fabulous take on time travel. More than just the mind-bending, action-packed scenes, it takes a serious look at the things we can and cannot change while also commenting on the attitudes in which we can take as we live in an immutable reality. "What's happened, happened," is a recurring line, thematically setting the viewers up for a bittersweet conclusion. What we have chosen to do in the past is unchangeable- how we choose to respond to the past, destined to forever be frozen in the amber of time, is paramount. Much like the moral of "The Time Machine" by H. G. Wells, the action of time travel is predicated on the instance of grief- thus changing the past would remove the original need to go backwards in the first place. What's happened, happened, right? 

On the other hand, the multiverse theory, which is both complicated and controversial among today's physicists, theologians, and philosophers suggests there could exist parallel universes in which our choices shift and so the stories of our lives change in big and small ways. Within this thought experiment, there exists a reality in which Liam survives that fateful day and we are living in a sublime, but perpetually exhausted state, grateful for the near miss. Sometimes, I wish I did believe in multiverse theory- it would be a source of comfort to know that, somewhere out there, one permutation in a million, Liam is sitting comfortably in my arms, listening with absolute adoration to The True Loves.

Back to Tenet. There is something incredibly serene in the knowledge the past is unchangeable. Without giving anything away, a strong character, knowing intimately his past/future, runs headlong into the next, ultimately doomed, layer of his own story. He is buoyed by both faith in certainty and hope in the future that folds him back into the past. The paradox of this act hit me square in my chest and it added another layer to my own story. It is true what's happened, happened, but certain choices were right no matter the outcome. At 18 weeks gestation, we had a choice to end Liam's story, but we chose not to. And there was true joy in that decision as well as pain and heartache, but no matter how many times I time travel, I never consider making a different choice on December 21st, 2017. The knowledge of past and future joy always outweighs the deep grief of the present.

I wish I could say one day I will no longer feel the pull to time travel back to those fateful events which are filled with self-recriminations and desire to change my actions (which comes naturally to all parents who have tragically lost a child), but that would be untrue. Future me at 80 will continue to time travel, asking the same questions as 35 me, and there will continue to be no answer except for the unchangeable knowledge that what's happened, happened and a deep hope that all of it meant something.