Ricky Gervais liked my tweet. That’s enough to make my day if not my week. But more important is the tweet itself and what it meant. As you can see I was not merely praising his show, After Life, but specifically how it has helped in my on-going battle with depression. The final episode in particular, besides bringing me to tears, caused me to look at the world and my place in it with more optimism and hope. Indeed one of the emphases of the episode was that losing hope was the worst thing that could happen to a person.
I’ve been staring at death — from afar, thankfully, though closer than I’ve had cause to before — a lot recently. Too much. It’s coming and I can’t quite reconcile myself to that basic fact of living. I’ve been slapped around by other people’s deaths for years now. Three of the best four best friends I’ve had in adulthood died pre-maturely as did my only sibling. My father, though ninety-two went too soon, the victim of a freak fall. I’ve had former students die as well and needless to say they’ve been young.
It’s all too much, especially when coupled with the expected passings that occur in the course of one’s life, such as grandparents, aunts and uncles and older friends and workmates.
I’ll be sixty-eight in one month. Not even in my seventies yet, some might say jovially. Sure I’m in excellent health but I’m approaching that age when one’s physical condition can change quickly. I’m okay for now. But how about in five years? Ten? Twenty? Mortality has become an ugly obsession. (It’s not like one can find a solution.)
But After Life has helped improve my outlook. In it the main character, Tony, played by Gervais, is mourning the passing of his wife. He is depressed. He is suicidal. He is bereft. He can be prickly or cruel with work mates, friends, acquaintances and passers-by. He obsesses over his loss and finds no joy in life, merely tolerating it. Remarkably there is humor in After Life, for only Ricky Gervais could elicit yucks in the story of a depressed man. There are also green shoots of hope that come through the people he gets to know in the course of doing his job as a journalist on a small town paper. There is a widow (Penelope Wilton) who he often sits next to at the cemetery. There is a woman who works at his the care facility that looks after his father (until he too dies). He draws wisdom and comfort from both. As he eventually does from the motley crew of co-workers and friends who surrounded him. The presence of his loving dog is also crucial to the show and keeping the character alive.
In the final episode it is a visit to a hospice center where a young girl has cancer that, in an odd way, changes Tony perspective. As does the widow’s plea for him not to lose hope. She suggests that without it one is already dead. Tony is able to find the joy in life. He is able to help others. He is able to see the beauty in people, in relationships. He is able to reconcile his lot in life and finally carry on — with his head unbowed by anger or despair.
How the story unfolds is magical and beautiful and establishes beyond doubt that in addition to being a brilliant comedian, Ricky Gervais is a master story-teller with a great heart.
I went on some errands today and greeted everyone with fellowship and cheer —something we all deserve. At Moe’s Bookstore I found out that an employee who is co-author of The Annotated Big Sleep, a book I positively loved — was in the store. He was haled and I had the pleasure of telling him how much I enjoyed the book. It clearly made him happy as it did me.
Fuck death. I’m living and spreading whatever joy I can.
Love you, dear readers, you’re few in number, but fine folks every one.
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