A Big Fish

Every man has a story to tell. How he tells it is up to him.
Some men tell stories straight. Some elaborate on details that were important to them. Some men tell something deeper, they try to dictate a life they've lead through tales that are beyond reality.

If you've seen the movie Big Fish, you know what I'm talking about.

I would never claim to be a huge Tim Burton fan. This movie, however, is dear to my heart and will forever be my favorite of his works. It tells the story of a man whose life has revolved around his storytelling. As he nears the end of his life, his son longs to know who his father really was. We as an audience see the father's life both through his stories and through the stories of the people he meets along the way.

Every time the last 15 or so minutes hit, my whole emotion changes (if you haven't seen the movie and don't want a spoiler, skip the next two paragraphs). As Edward, the father, lies on his deathbed he asks his son how he is going to die. His son looks into the eyes of his father and tells a short tale of his father's death. A master escape plan out of the hospital leads them to the edge of a river bank. On this bank, every single person who was ever in Edward's story is there. They smile and wave as Edward passes by them. They were grateful for the impact he had on their lives and wished to see him off properly. Through the crowd Edward is taken; past soldiers and cheerleaders and giants and businessmen. At the end of the happy crowd awaits his wife in the river. He gives her one last kiss and his wedding ring as his son lays him down into the water. Suddenly, Edward transforms into the mythical fish he had always spoken of in his stories.

Upon hearing the ending of the story from his son, Edward dies in his bed.
No riverbank.
No crowd.
No wife to kiss.
No fish.

Every time I see this movie, I always wonder, "did Edward die a big fish or a man in a hospital?"
I think it is the same way with all of our stories. We live and we live and we live and we die. That's it. But maybe, just maybe, there's a little more magic than we think. This movie tugs on one of my deepest desires. Ever since Brett Slinger passed away in middle school, I had always thought about how I myself would some day pass on. If I were to die surrounded by all the people I had affected and who had affected me...surely I would die a happy man. Surely my story will have been great enough that those I knew would smile as I went onward or upward or whichever direction a spirit may take.

Edward dying in his bed became my late grandfather. My late grandfather became myself. Someday I will grow old. My skin will wrinkle, my heartbeat will slow. The hair on my head, if any, will be thin and my muscles will be weak with fatigue.
When I lay there on my bed (if that's how it ends), how many more memories I will have from when I write this. The men I will have met to make brothers. The women to make sisters. I will have (hopefully) found love, made love and seen a whole new generation of myself grow up. Perhaps I would have a career under my belt or perhaps my path would take me elsewhere. Whatever the case may be, I will lay there and be only able to look back as far as this world is concerned. And at some moment, it is guaranteed, I will breathe my last breath.

20 years old I sit in my dark house breathing not knowing the count until that moment. When my eyes no longer see the world I wonder if I am dying a big fish or just a man at the end.

I speak of death from the stories that lead up to them.

Edward's stories are fables. Tall tales. They are not fully true, yet they are true. Characters are exaggerated, but existed. Moments in history occurred more or less (usually less) than how Edward tells them. Yet because the stories are tall, because they have an element of magic, they are more true in ways than they would be if told straight. The themes and emotional impact made upon Edward during these moments are conveyed so much better when told as he tells them. Perhaps when you read something that claims to be true, but seems off, check the emotional validity, maybe there is something you need to understand that can only be understood by striking the chord within you that resonates with myth and mystery.

When you tell your stories dear reader, tell them well. Do not take each conversation for granted. Our lives touch so many others in the short time that we are here. Your stories are entwining with someone else's and at some point the stories will meet at the same place. Be sure to make a memory when you're at that place, less the story be lost forever.
Your story at this moment in time is touching mine. You are reading my words. Your attention, your being is here. Enjoy this right now, don't let it pass. In a few moments your story will be somewhere else. Wherever you are, I hope you are living a story that you desire to tell and that love is upon you.

- Ian Charbonnet

"Every man's life ends the same way. It is the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another."
- Ernest Hemmingway