The closing credits to Matt Smith's final episode as the Doctor comes onto the screen. I can't take my eyes off the TV, for fear that my doing so will confirm the terrible future that is now laid out for me in my Whovian world. The room is silent but for the music that signals the end of the episode, as it escapes from the TV. I try my hardest to compose myself into some form of calm that will allow me to speak actual words without breaking out into uncontrollable sobs. Once I am as close to being able to do this as I can be, I take a deep breath and open my mouth.
"The transition from Matt Smith to Peter Capaldi was too quick. It came as a shock." I say.
"Really?" Marmie says. "I thought the whole thing was too long."
My gaze shoots from the screen and starts throwing deep, sharp and deadly daggers at my mother. I could forgive her for a great many things, but this? This is too much. Clearly not enough time has passed for her to be as insensitive as she is being.
"If you're going to insist on not understanding the magnitude of what has happened, then I suggest you don't say anything at all." I shoot back.
"Anyone up for a game of Munchkin?" Younger-Brother-Daniel offers to the room.
There are murmurs of agreement to this suggestion and both Marmie and The-Father begin to move from their seats, tidying away the remnants of the wrapping paper and snacks that still lay discarded around us.
"Let's everyone begin to tidy the room, before we start a game. It looks a mess at the moment." Marmie says, as she exits for the kitchen.
Younger-Brother-Daniel groans but his body creaks forward in an exasperated obligatory manner. He clearly doesn't like the idea of doing this, but accepts that it needs to be done anyway.
I glance back at the TV screen, still not able to find movement within my body. The opening credits to Eastenders begins and I hasten to turn the sound off, not interested in the depressing scene this classic soap is about to bring to Christmas day. However, this is the only thing that I am able to force myself to do. I'm still in shock. I'm still trying to get my head around the fact that there will never be another episode with Matt Smith playing the Doctor and, although there is a part of me who is incredibly excited at the notion of Peter Capaldi taking his place, I am not able to register that part because my love for Matt Smith's portrayal of my favourite fictional character of all time, is still so strong.
I have all these thoughts running through my head, all of which is only doubled by the emotional rollercoaster I have just experienced in seeing Amy Pond address her Raggedy Man once more. I am a wreck. The tears shed from Matt Smith's departure are still fresh on my cheeks; clinging on for dear life. They too, like the rest of me, aren't ready to let go of this moment.
I glance around at the now empty room, and manage to muster up the emotional stamina to open Facebook. I am outraged at the seemingly blase reaction my family have had to this devastating time in my life. I let out my outrage in the form of a facebook status, announcing to the world that my time for grieving is being forcibly cut short. I am spent. I am sad. I desperately search for anything; a vine, a funny picture, anything that might allow me to feel happiness again. I find one that fills me with a shot of happiness:
I find I am able to smile once more. I realise that there are always opportunities to go back and see Matt Smith. That the image of him taking his bow tie off one final time, doesn't have to be the last thing I see of him. No... I can go back and watch him put that bow tie on for the first time ever... just as he gives the first of his many, many kick-ass speeches; as he tells the Atraxi to "basically, run."
I nod my head in acceptance, as I come to terms with this new revelation and find it help me in the grieving process. I close my eyes, curl up into a ball and take a moment to mentally tell myself that everything will be okay.
The sound of Marmie's footsteps coming into the room interrupts my moment of self-healing.
"Seriously, Lisa." She says. "I did ask for your help in tidying this room. How else are we meant to enjoy Christmas, with a messy room?"
"Does no one care that Matt Smith just died?" I shout back.
Marmie throws me a perplexed look.
"Who?" She asks.
"Exactly!!" I shout as I throw my hands up in the air and storm out of the room.
Honestly... some people are just so insensitive.
To everyone else, I am so sorry for your loss.
Peace out my lovelies.
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