STANDING AT THE GRAVE

I am a more-than-casual fan of the BBC Sherlock series, starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman.

Perhaps a bit more than an enthusiast - maybe an aficionado - devotee.

No, let's get honest and use terms like addict - fanatic - extremist - MILITANT!

Okay, let me catch my breath for a minute.

I do tend to really get into things - it's not enough to watch the DVDs of the series, I am the person who memorizes the director's commentaries - digs out press releases - reads books about the making of the series sets, for goodness sake.

I know the director of photography's name - the guest stars and what shows they've been in - who wrote what script.

Again, this is only for the few television shows or movies that have completely overwhelmed me - Sherlock, Star Wars, the Harry Potter movies, Firefly....


But back to Sherlock.

Benedict Cumberbatch is simply beautiful, but Martin Freeman in the character of Dr. Watson is the one I am really in love with. He's good, faithful, dependable... all good things, but without being a dog. He argues and fusses with Sherlock, and doesn't agree with him all that often - but when Sherlock needs his back covered, John is there. The ultimate loyal friend.

In the last episode of season two, Sherlock dies. And since he is Sherlock, he also somehow survives. But John doesn't know this, and visits his graveside, and delivers a lovely little eulogy  ending with "and one more miracle, Sherlock... please, don't be dead."

Then he takes a minute and weeps silently, but then wipes his face, stands up and gives a tiny military nod.

And that's what this entire wandering blog entry is about.

We all need to take a moment.

Sometimes that moment can take years.

But when we've gotten through it, we need to straighten up - wipe our cheeks dry - and face up to life again.

This nod of John Watson says it much more eloquently than I can.

And tonight especially I needed to be reminded of it.