Mercy Waits

Massive spoilers for Clannad incoming. If you plan to watch the show I must sadly ask you stop reading. But please come back after that and finish the post!

I was sitting in Kyle's dorm room. The lights were low. We'd been watching for hours. I'd just seen Nagisa die and was still drying my eyes. Crying for stories had not really been my thing at that point in my life, and I was a bit mad that I had cried for Nagisa's death. And then Ushio, the daughter, showed up. And I knew what they were going to do the instant she showed her cute little face. I swore at Kyle throughout her introduction, cussing him out because I knew Ushio was going to die. Over and over again I swore I would not get attached, out loud, at Kyle, who just chuckled.

I had just finished finally drying my freaking eyes, thanks. And yes, I couldn't help it at that point. I loved Ushio with every last beat of my broken heart. And yes, she did die. And yes, I sobbed so hard that I thought my lungs would give out. I have a vague memory of them doing so. And me going on without them.

I still can't watch the above scene without crying. I know because last night I found myself randomly finding the scene on Youtube, curling up in a corner, and sobbing as I watched it. Ten. Years. Later. Even today, this show is the gold standard for showing what the mercy of God looks like. Every step of the way long-standing sorrow meets someone who can address that sorrow. Not something. Some one. All these characters are looking for an answer to their questions, to their problems, to their heartache.

An answer never comes. Us folks with broken hearts always want it to, but that's a long wait for a train that won't come.

The answer is person, other.

It's always person that comes to us. Person who gives the context necessary to see who you really are. Person who helps you to let go of the question that you had. And then the tears come to wash away the hurt. With person.

The thing that really struck me last night, in between suppressed sobs, was how this scene would have been impossible without the previous 40+ episodes before. Tomoya had a long-standing problem of not being able to forgive his father (I'd argue that's actually the central problem of the series). That hard heart had been shown to be eating Tomoya from the inside out, making him less than he truly was. And he would not let go of it. Throughout the series Tomoya becomes more and more himself, reaching out and helping others with his presence, with his personage, but he refused to be fully himself toward his father. Over and over he is invited to become himself towards his father. Over and over he refuses. He's got Nagisa, after all, the love of his life! What the hell does he need with his father??

And then one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever experienced happened.

Yes, she's been dead about two minutes when Tomoya begins to try to revive her with Ushio's existence.

It goes as well as you'd think.

Tomoya became worse than his father, who had lost his wife as well, but at least he kept Tomoya! He didn't abandon his son, like Tomoya did Ushio.

So when Ushio forgives her father, she shows him something that Tomoya had nowhere in his heart. It was Mercy, in the fullest sense of the word. Tomoya not only didn't have the strength to forgive on that level, he didn't even have the inclination for it. Ushio forgave Tomoya for abandoning her and Tomoya's heart broke, wide open, to receive her mercy. 

And it meant so much more than God doing it. 

So God got out of the way, knowing that the moment between father and daughter would come, knowing that intervening would block the two of them from being able to connect in the way they would want to. So God got out of the way, allowing the two of them to become the people they needed to be for each other. And waited.

The day my firstborn came into the world was one of the happiest days of my life. It was also one of the most terrifying. I looked at this child who had responded to my voice with the utmost attention, and knew he was to bring the end of something old, cold, and vile in my soul. I knew he would bring the death of a part of me that I had never loved but had held onto with all my might. He spends his days killing it with his little presence, by his stubborn little insistence that he loves me. And I him. There are some days I want to fight it with all my might, but that boy is the strongest person I've ever encountered. Day by day he wears down my hatred and pain. Day by day I give in to him a little more. That boy is a juggernaut. He never seems to tire of loving me.

It is a long, drawn out surgery, where the patient has to be awake and without anesthesia. Slowly but surely I find that sorrow and joy's separation are removed, until they become one, sharp, double-edged sword. Sorrow expands, cutting and breaking where it must, so more joy may invade and enliven the shriveled remains of my soul. Where to be joyful is to be sorrowful too, and to be filled with peace that it is so. What began ten years ago, in a place of darkness, with Tomoya and Ushio continues even now in the persons of my wife and children, who very patiently help me turn over the tyrants in my soul, transforming the lizard into horse, parasite to mount. It is a long road.

But there is mercy in it being so. And so I continue up the hill, towards the shining city at the top.

And yes, I listened to the above song obsessively after my first was born. It was the only thing that could give context to what I was feeling, looking at that beautiful face. I hope someday he understands what he's done for me. I pray he finds the same relief and challenge.

But there is mercy in waiting for that, is there not?

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