Dear Vanessa,

I used to love the movie Coco. Then I hated it, and I hated that I hated it. Now I don’t.

Planes are the only place I watch movies anymore. So I was scrolling, and there was Coco, same as every flight. It’s always there in Spanish because it’s set in Mexico, and I wanted easy listening practice for Spanish. The movie that wrecked me at 30,000 feet is now Spanish practice. It wasn’t a test. I wasn’t checking if a cute Disney movie still feels like breathing fire.

I wrote a whole chapter about hating this movie in the book. Mostly about its big message, that remembering someone keeps them alive. Everything in that chapter is still true. Remembering you doesn’t bring you back. Love doesn’t conquer death.

I finished it this time. All of it. Didn’t pause once. Didn’t need to reset. Last time I tapped out at halftime and switched to Bluey. This time I didn’t need a trash bag of wet airplane napkins. I needed five.

The same scenes got me. Same beats, same spots. But this time I was crying at a cute story. Would I have cried as much if you weren’t dead? No. But last time the crying was bitter. This time it was bittersweet.

You cried during the grandmother’s scene. Of course you did. We always had opposite reactions to movies. What made you cry, I found interesting. What made me laugh, you thought was stupid.

I cried during the grandmother’s scene. Of course I did.

I watch movies like you now.

Everything I wrote in that chapter is still true. Remembering you doesn’t bring you back. Love doesn’t conquer death. I’m not at the point where I can watch anything without you being the forefront of it. Instead of a panic attack, it’s a panic sad.

I love this movie again. And I hate that I love it again.

One scene got me that never got me before. Miguel singing. Last time it was the quiet ones, Miguel talking to his dead family about nothing. This time it was a kid singing. That’s the trigger now. A kid singing. Because I have one of those now.

She still hasn’t seen Coco. I know what I promised in the book. Someday, with her. This wasn’t that. This was just me, alone at 30,000 feet, getting through the whole thing on five napkins. I’m not there yet. But she already is. She sings that Golden song from the KPop movie. I want to lie and say you would have loved it. I want to keep pretending I know you so well that even two and a half years later I can guess your music taste. I want to keep pretending forever.

I can’t even do that anymore.

She sings it everywhere. All the time. It never ends.

Besitos,

Michael