I have a confession. I binge watch shows that I like. And when I discovered an 8.8 imdb rated show with three seasons, I couldn’t help myself so I indulged in this lovely pastime.
After seeing the muck-up that the Manny did with explaining to young-uns that everyone dies (including their parents and themselves), he manages to get things together by explaining a drawing of “life” that he did for a play that he was going to act in. The drawing itself looks like a very colourful Pollock.
Um, all that talk of ghosts and dying.
All that adult stuff we were reading about. That’s some pretty confusing adult stuff.
So, uh, you know, I thought I would come up here, show you my painting, tell you what I think my play is about. Because I was thinking, um, that it might make us all feel a little bit better.
But you got to promise not to make fun of me, okay?
Life is full of color.
And we each get to come along and we add our own color to the painting. You know? And even though it’s not very big, the painting, you sort of have to figure that it goes on forever, you know, in each direction. So, like, to infinity, you know?
‘Cause that’s kind of like life, right? And it’s really crazy, if you think about it, isn’t it, that, a hundred years ago, some guy that I never met came to this country with a suitcase.
He has a son, who has a son, who has me.
So, at first, when I was painting, I was thinking, you know, maybe up here, that was that guy’s part of the painting and then, you know, down here, that’s my part of the painting. And then I started to think, well, what if… we’re all in the painting, everywhere? And-and what if we’re in the painting before we’re born? What if we’re in it after we die?
And these colors that we keep adding, what if they just keep getting added on top of one another, until eventually we’re not even different colors anymore?
We’re just… one thing.
I mean, my dad is not with us anymore. He’s not alive, but he’s with us.
He’s with me every day. It all just sort of fits somehow. And even if you don’t understand how yet, people will die in our lives, people that we love. In the future. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe years from now. I mean, it’s kind of beautiful, right, if you think about it, the fact that just because someone dies, just because you can’t see them or talk to them anymore, it doesn’t mean they’re not still in the painting.
I think maybe that’s the point of the whole thing. There’s no dying. There’s no you or me or them. It’s just us.
And this… sloppy… wild, colorful, magical thing that has no beginning, it has no end… this right here…
I think it’s us.