In another universe, I’m a novelist and our son is disability free. Oh, the what ifs of the multiverse.
I watched “Everything Everywhere All At Once” this weekend, the Michelle Yeoh-starring film that is generating major Oscar buzz.
The film is about the multiverse, where infinite and different versions of the same characters exist.
The directors must’ve been on potent drugs, because this film is bonkers – converging multiple genres, like martial arts and animation, and has characters in one universe with hotdog fingers and in another universe, existing as stop motion rocks that converse in speech bubbles.
It is as insane as it sounds but it all comes together cohesively and at its core, the movie is a genuinely moving story about family and love.
After watching the movie, I couldn’t help but think about the concept of the multiverse – that there are infinite versions of my family’s life that exists, each a branch of a different decision made or circumstance.
In other universes, I am a teacher because I accepted the offer to the teaching program at age 19 instead of studying journalism; or I am a journalist because I pursued that career after graduation instead of working in libraries; or I would’ve published several novels by now, because I committed my focus to doing so.
In other universes, I am living in the Philippines, because my parents did not immigrate to Canada and the hubby and I do not know each other; or the hubby and I do not have kids; or we have children adopted privately and not through CAS.
In other universes, T’s mother is raising him because she had a stable life; or T does not have FASD.
The vast mystery of universe is fascinating and humbling to think about – we are just a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of time and space and of the creator’s master plan.
It can indeed be tempting to think about the what ifs, especially when one is in the trenches.
But the one key message of the movie – no spoilers – is to embrace and be grateful for the here and now and what is in front of you.
And that’s how I’ve always embraced this happy, crazy, joyful and chaotic journey with T.
Because FASD is very much part of T and what makes him T – for better and for worse.
As the movie was reaching its end, T sauntered down the family room to find me.
He asked me earnestly, “When you poop, is it long?”
Yup, wouldn’t trade this T for another one.
He let me finish the movie then we played stuffed animal tag, a game we made up where we chase and hurl stuffed animals at each other.
The next morning, as I was cleaning up after breakfast, T told me to come to the living room.
He had created Daddy, Papa and T out of his blocks (see photo at top). He gave himself a Lego dog.
I amused myself with the thought that there is another universe where we all exist and love one another as Lego people.