Photo by Gaspar Uhas on Unsplash
If you’ve ever tried to tell me about a show I just haaavvvvvve to see, then checked in months later to find that I haven’t so much as watched the preview, you know I’m not a *show* person.
I can barely commit to washing my hair every third other day let alone commit to six to eight seasons of 10 to 12 episodes each. That’s like, two full work weeks of nonstop show watching. When Game of Thrones ended and everyone was pissed about the finale, I didn’t write a smug post on social media about never having watched a single episode. But I wanted to.
That Coronavirus sure has a way of flipping things on its head, no? Here I am binging more television than I’ve ever watched in my life (okay, mainly just one show, but still), and now in addition to the stress of a global pandemic, I have to deal with the wild rollercoaster of emotions that happens when a beloved series comes to an end.
Today I bring you the six stages of grief, TV show edition.
Stage 1: Anticipation
You’ve reached the final season. What will happen? How will they close out that plot line? Will those two finally end up together? It’s a very exciting time, exactly as I imagine it must be when your child is getting ready to graduate from college. The possibilities!
You know the end is drawing near and at some point you’ll have to deal with all the complicated emotions that are brewing under the surface, but at this stage it’s all about the anticipation of what’s to come.
Stage 2: Pre-Grieving
You’ve got two, maybe three episodes left and reality is starting to sink in. It’ll all be over soon. Your favorite characters aren’t gone yet, but you already miss them. And what if one of them gets killed off? The thought is almost too much to bear.
You try to talk about your feelings with friends and family, but it’s hard to find others who can relate. Most of them either haven’t made it this far in the series yet so you can’t speak freely (spoilers), or they’re already finished and have moved on (monsters). It’s a challenging and lonely time.
Stage 3: Elation
You press play and the drug, I mean the intro music, courses through your veins. The final episode.
Your stomach is doing that first-date nervous feeling and you’ve got a death grip on the stem of your wine glass. You’re proud of your characters—look how far they’ve come!—and happy to see their loose ends tied up.
Like a symphony composer watching an orchestra perform his masterpiece for the first time, you sit transfixed for 60 to 75 minutes of pure emotion. When the end finally comes, your throat is tight and your eyes are watery. Darn allergies acting up.
Stage 4: Denial
It doesn’t take hold right away, but then you wake up the next morning and a stinging memory of the night before slaps you in the face. It can’t be true. It’s not really over. Is it?
You look for holes in the plot, find things to nitpick out of spite. You turn to Reddit and nod aggressively with the commenter who points out that scene that was totally gratuitous and added nothing to the story. He’s so right.
You search YouTube, confident there are deleted scenes yet to be discovered—or better yet, a blooper reel. When nothing turns up, you settle for a late-night show interview with the lead actor and laugh along as she yuks it up with Jimmy Fallon about the upcoming series finale. See? It hasn’t happened yet, right? There’s still more to come?
Stage 5: Bargaining
Life begins to return to normal and you go about your daily routine. Still, you can’t quite shake the thought of it from your head. You daydream about where the characters are now, what their lives are like. You reminisce on the good times. What you’d give to have just a little more time together—a cast reunion, perhaps. Maybe a movie franchise?
Surely the stars will eventually post an Instagram photo together, maybe around the holidays as they gather over a turkey dinner in one of their lavish Hollywood homes, proving that all is right in the world. You’ll wait… as long as it takes.
Stage 6: Acceptance
It’s not easy. It’s not fair. But no one ever said life would be either of those things, now did they? Just like that frat guy you dated in college who wore bowties unironically, now you can look back on it and laugh.
Then when you’re not even looking for it, it happens. Something completely unexpected comes along and sweeps you off your feet. It’s not your usual type—after all, it has a mullet—but it makes all that heartache feel like a distant memory. You mix up another batch of margaritas, pop a bowl of popcorn and press play as a tiny smile crosses your lips. You’ve moved on.
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