I know what it’s like to feel alone.  That’s the first thought that crossed my mind when I turned off the TV after watching an episode of one of my favorite shows, Doctor Who.

I guess I should probably back track a little.  I’m a fan of this show called Doctor Who.  It’s basically about a time traveler, and well there’s this episode called The Doctor and Vincent that I’d heard a lot about.  It was supposed to be one of the best, yet I’d never seen it, so finally I had my chance today, and it left me pretty…speechless. 

To give a brief summary, the Doctor and his companion Amy travel to the past to visit Vincent Van Gogh after discovering something in one of his paintings.  Now if you don’t know who Vincent Van Gogh is (which to be honest is kinda sad), then Google the name and you’re bound to recognize some of his work.  He’s one of the world’s most famous painters, but more than that, he was a very troubled soul, who suffered from depression and the fact that people saw him as mad.  He was poor, no one ironically wanted any of his paintings, he was driven out of towns and called names, and eventually this all drove him to take his own life.  He never even reached 30. 

Now the episode does have a bunch of humor and action in it with a plot that involves an alien, but that’s not the point.  The big thing that got me was the very end of the episode where the Doctor kinda says “to hell” with all the rules of time travel, and takes Vincent to 2010, where he shows him all of his art up in a museum where people are marveling at it.  The way Vincent reacts to seeing for the first time that he really did something that mattered, it…I’ll tell ya I wanted to cry.  Really, if you ever get a chance, watch the episode and you’ll know what I mean, but back to what I was saying earlier.

I turned off the TV and the first thought that crossed my mind was how I know what it’s like to feel alone, to feel like you can offer up this world so much, and it just feels like the world is just spitting in your face.  I know what it’s like to have this amazing talent, and yet it’s also a curse because it can drive you mad sometimes, and you feel like no one can understand what you feel like.  For once, all these thoughts were filling my mind in the best of ways.  I look at Vincent Van Gogh, and I don’t see a mad man, but more of a kindred spirit.  I sympathized with him in a way that made me smile, and really was happy to see him looking around that museum in shock because, well, he deserved it.  In no way am I in his league, but seeing the way he was portrayed, it just made me think so much about what we all wish for in life.

The scariest thing about death and dying isn’t that it’s the end of our story, but the fear that our stories will never be remembered.  That’s the scariest thing to me, that I’ll leave this world nothing when I’m gone.  So many of us wish that we could leave a mark, and worry that we won’t.  We all search for appreciation for the things we’ve done, myself especially.  When I look at the people I love, I’m constantly wondering if I’d done enough, if, God forbid, my story ends like Van Gogh’s did, would I be remembered as he was?  In one way shape or form, I think we’d all love to have the opportunity to go into the future and see how much we’d done.  To go to the future and see that not only are we appreciated, but missed dearly.

I honestly wish I could be the Doctor for a day.  Just a single day, so I could show myself, and so many others, that they’re amazing pieces of this world.  That they meant more to me, and to so many others, and that they really did change the world and people’s lives.  That their time on this Earth was something no one could ever replace.  And most of all, that they’re not alone.