Stephen Hawking Movie Scene- Explanation

 Two posts ago, I mentioned this movie scene and how I thought about it when thinking of my deceased first boyfriend. This scene was from a movie called “The
Theory of Everything” about the life of Stephen Hawking. My first love didn’t have Lou Gherig’s disease like Stephen Hawking did, but he did have cardiomyopathy as a result of long term Ritalin use as a child. I suspect that’s how he died, but I’m not sure.

He and I used to daydream out loud to each other about our future kids and what they’d be like. In reality, we went our separate ways, married and divorced other people, and he had two sons while I had a daughter. In this scene, Stephen Hawking is with his estranged wife at an event and their three kids- two sons and a daughter- are playing. Stephen is so advanced in his disease at this point that he can only communicate by typing. He starts typing, and his ex wife leans over to read it. He says in his iconic robot voice, “Look what we made!” And they gaze at their girl and two boys. 

Of course that scene hits different now that I know about Matt’s passing. We didn’t get to do it together, but we did it.  Of course I see that scene and think of my daughter and his two sons. 

Then, it starts showing major memories of his life in reverse.  The scenes reverse all the way through the advancement of his disease, as if he’s getting better and better until he’s perfectly healthy and sees his wife for the first time- as two little 18 year old nerds like me and Matt were.  

Someone put this in the comments: 

I often wonder if when we come into this life, if there are truly hundreds of possibilities of what will happen based on what choices we make.  When Matt and I used to attend church, they used to argue about “predestination vs free will”.  But I believe in a mix of both.  The high number of possibilities is predestined.  Our free will determines what possibility actually happens.  I hope that makes sense. 

What ended up happening is that Matt and I broke up and I was so brokenhearted that I dove into working jobs that helped abused kids.  I was pressured to break up with Matt, so I did.  But when I tried to reconcile a month later, he rejected me and said I’d hurt him too much.  I became obsessed with my career goals.   I did several jobs that helped children, and there was so much sadness.  I look back on it now, and I don’t even know how I handled all of that weight on my shoulders being just barely out of childhood myself.  What was I doing and how did I do it?  

What if Matt and I could rewind like that, maybe all the way back to when we were in kindergarten, before we knew each other, and someone could convince his parents not to give him Ritalin?  Maybe they could have met my anti-helping kids- with mental health- and learning disability parents and been swayed by them.  Maybe Matt could have had a childhood like mine where he was just yelled at and told to buckle down instead of drugged.  It may sound like I’m being snarky, but his death has made me almost glad I never got help for my own neurodivergence.  I didn’t have that male privilege! (Snark intended since I’m alive and he’s dead)

What if we did get to get married and have our seven kids?  Would there be as much sadness as I’ve had working with kids?  Maybe  or maybe not.  

Today I’m just very sad, and I shouldn’t be.  I came home from work and immediately got in bed.  When I got hungry I just had (baked whole grain) chips and salsa.  I’m very happy with my life. But I’m so sad today.  

I should be happy that my car is paid off and that I got a raise.  And that I’m happily married to a man that’s honestly much easier to be married to than Matt would have been.  And my kid is going to college. I am just sad as hell and I want to spend all day tomorrow crying since there’s no inventory- BUT it will be 25 cent day and Anna wants to spend the night so if I want to cry I better do it now