And I Am Met With Pain - Blog Posts

What makes it worse is feeling like they could “be over” all that aforementioned trauma but no, reliving it is always painful.

Oh, Sinclair and Stanley definitely give off the appearance that they’re really “over it” until they witness it and it finally hits for Sinclair how disappointed his grandfather would be in him and Stanley thinking his old man was right all along about him being a “pathetic loser.”

And poor Grace definitely has been through so much already that she’s had to toughen up about what she witnessed as a child, and reliving that, losing James, and her infertility definitely makes her emotional and more vulnerable than she’d like to be. It ties into Grace and Stanley’s statues: Delta is there to comfort Grace like a son does to his elderly mother, and also raise Stanley up from his lowest point.

It pushes Stanley to get his shit together and make amends, Grace to fully accept Delta, and for Sinclair to leave the train car for Delta and Eleanor. With Elizabeth with them, it allows Delta, or John, to finally remember who he is and he is allowed to be vulnerable. They all realize Delta isn’t just a human being: he has family, he has friends, he did have hopes and dreams. They all dehumanized him in some way or another.

Once, he was just a little boy- someone’s little boy- who dreamed about not Paris, but exploring the ocean. His childhood bedroom has it’s walls littered with cut out photos of magazines with the beach on them, a box of sea shells he collected, drawings of sharks, his pet goldfish, and books on marine biology. There’s a photo of him fishing with his grandfather on his nightstand next to a tiny baseball glove.

There is also nothing sadder than a Big Daddy crying because he remembered how much he misses his mama.