Vincent and The Doctor

My children will tell you that it doesn’t take much to make get all weepy. As far as television and movies go – they aren’t wrong. I do get weepy when favorite characters are killed off or something incredible happens. I can’t help it – its easier to be outwardly emotional for fictional people. To my point!

We are watching Doctor Who today and it happens that Vincent and the Doctor is on. Of all the episodes I’ve ever seen, Vincent and the Doctor probably strikes the closest chord with me. It’s not like losing Baker’s Doctor or Eccleston’s Doctor – which broke my heart a little. It’s bigger than that for me.

I’ve been dealing with anxiety and depression for so long I don’t remember being without either in some form or another. I’ve been writing stories even longer. The gift the Doctor gives to Vincent is what makes me get weepy. I could watch the episode a hundred times and I will still get weepy because it matters.

To be able to show someone who (at least in this fictional incarnation) struggles with the enormity of being human, the legacy he leaves behind. How incredible is that? How marvelous that he could see it for himself, even if it changed nothing in the long run?


For me, that moment when Vincent is hearing the curator describe his own body of work in such glowing terms fills me with something I can’t even properly define. To know that you, when you felt so alone, so unwanted, actually made a difference to the world in some way, isn’t that what we all want? The legacy we leave behind that means something. That in some way, we will matter beyond the borders of our families.


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