In video games, dead parent storylines give a character depth. Their grief becomes a plot point, something to overcome.
This is Grief at a Distance, a column by Matt Ortile examining his grief over his mother’s death in the Philippines during the Covid-19 pandemic.
Pokémon Shield
i who have died am alive Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Three Houses
Three Houses
tick-tock
Three Houses
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Breath of the Wild
Pokémon Sapphire
Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity
depth
whohowwhenwhy
Grief is not something to conquer, to defeat; after you lose someone, the goal is not to win.
And at times, when the grief waxes, or blocks the path forward, I can choose to rest. As she once advised, I can indulge and play.
Recently, I spent nights staying up until three playing Ori and the Blind Forest. (The protagonist’s mother dies, then comes back to life and protects her child from the antagonist. The antagonist is a mother too, who ultimately sacrifices herself to protect her own child. Fun!) I thought of Mom and moderation, so I switched gears. I’ve restarted my Pokémon game, playing only in one-hour bursts. While she rests, I’ll become Pokémon Champion.
For what it’s worth, there are no dead mothers in the Pokémon series. (Not human ones, at least.) In every generation, you begin your journey with a mom. She sends you off on your Pokémon adventure, though she hates to see you go. But in that space between you and her, she says, you have room to grow.
“When you’re exposed to new things, and experience new sensations,” says one mom, “it makes your mother happy, too.”
I remember getting Pokémon LeafGreen in September 2004, a year and change after Mom and I immigrated to the US. (“Happy birthday, anak! I love you!”) My in-game mother gifted me a pair of running shoes. Newly thirteen-year-old me was moved to tears by her note for “my beloved challenger.”
(I have always loved my mother, seen her reflection in all things.)
“Remember,” her note reads, “I’ll always cheer for you! Don’t ever give up!”
Matt Ortile is the author of the essay collection The Groom Will Keep His Name and the co-editor of the nonfiction anthology Body Language. He is also the executive editor of Catapult magazine and was previously the founding editor of BuzzFeed Philippines. He has received fellowships from the Sewanee Writers’ Conference and MacDowell; has taught workshops for Kundiman, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and PEN America; and has written for Esquire, Vogue, Condé Nast Traveler, Out magazine, and BuzzFeed News, among others. He is a graduate of Vassar College, which means he now lives in Brooklyn.
This exercise is meant to let you use a part of your identity as a perspective, rather than just a subject that you’re putting under pressure and scrutiny.
There is hope in the size and power of our protests, hope that our message will truly, finally be heard—but whether it will be understood in the hearts that need it most is a much harder, scarier question.
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