Home > Love, Movies, Personal, Relationships, Youth > Kill Bill Meets My Wedding

Kill Bill Meets My Wedding

Kill Bill is on my mind as my wedding looms near.

It’s not like you think. Really.

A week and a half ago, my fiancé, Anthony, said we should watch the first film while our son was away overnight. I agreed, figuring I’d be asleep within a few minutes. That’s how films are usually watched in my household: with Anthony watching and me snoring.

An unusual thing happened this time. I stayed awake for more than an hour, about twenty times longer than I usually manage. I fell asleep not because I was bored but because I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open any longer.* When I awakened the next morning, I immediately resumed watching, leading Anthony to exclaim he couldn’t believe his eyes.

I finished Kill Bill and Kill Bill 2 that morning. Anthony repeatedly expressed elation that I (a) actually finished watching a full movie and its sequel and (b) that those movies were made by Quentin Tarantino.**

If you think there’s a chance you’ll watch these movies and don’t want to be spoiled, you should probably skip the rest of this post. Don’t worry, it’ll still be here later.

Otherwise, read on.

Pregnant protagonist Beatrix Kiddo, recently retired assassin, is left for dead the night of her wedding rehearsal. “Bill, it’s yours,” she murmurs to an unseen aggressor before she’s shot in the head.

The movies document her exacting revenge on the assassins who tried killing her, reaching its climax when she comes face to face with the very Bill who shot her . . . and simultaneously meeting the daughter she didn’t know had survived.

The final fight’s conclusion is not surprising, but it’s powerful nevertheless.

More powerful by far is one of the very last scenes of the movie. As her daughter watches TV one room over, Beatrix clutches a teddy bear while rocking back and forth on a hotel bathroom floor. She’s crying, but her words are joyous ones.

“Thank you.”

With a week and a half until my wedding, I want to write happy, humorous posts. I want to make people giggle and navigate away from my blog smiling.

But the truth is, I feel like Beatrix now.

Having fought my way out of poverty and abuse, through my mom’s mental illness and her death to cancer, and yet made for myself a life full of love and comparative ease, I could feel myself in Beatrix as she rocked.

My old life will always be a part of me. It’s inescapable, and indeed, I wouldn’t want to escape it as it was the foundation of my strength. I hope my children will never know firsthand certain truths from my younger days, but I wish for them the wisdom to understand some of those truths, many years from now, through empathy and empathy alone.

As I face my last few days of unmarried life, I feel in every moment how close I am to closing out one era and escorting in a new one. Part of that is about marriage, but part of it’s about choice: definitively choosing a different and more hopeful path, no matter how strange and uncertain it feels to embrace the possibility of enduring joy.


I’m just about to emerge from my own bathroom. I’m getting ready to commit myself fully to a life utterly unlike anything my younger self ever imagined, and ever so much sweeter.

For right now, though, I’m rocking back and forth on that figurative bathroom floor, saddened how many struggles came before and yet so, so very grateful for the different life ahead.

If my words in the next week and a half sound heavy, it’s not because I’m sad. What I’m feeling is far too complex for so simple a label. There’s sadness and sweetness and giddiness and missing, all jumbled up and so intense I can barely restrain myself from crying most the time.

It’s a beautiful—if exhausting—place to be, here on the bathroom floor.

I don’t know exactly what it’ll look like when I arise and emerge, but I do know what words will be on my lips when I do. Like Beatrix, they’ll be a numerically small but emotionally behemoth two.

Thank you.

* During pregnancy, this is usually around noon.

** I still don’t get the glee, exactly, but that’s OK.

  1. September 24, 2013 at 6:53 pm

    You and Anthony deserve enduring joy–but making that decision together is a big deal very worthy of a celebration. In that sense, I can see that it will spark some reflection and wonder. Enjoy the transition! Your courage and sense of gratitude can get you through most everything.

    • September 25, 2013 at 5:29 am

      I feel a lot better about everything the last few days, since recognizing anything I feel during this exciting time is A-OK. (Yep, I’m still reading a little Just One Thing daily–it helps!)

      I thank you for your kind, thoughtful, and uplifting words. ♥

  2. September 24, 2013 at 7:52 pm

    In the words of Meister Eckhart, “If the only prayer you ever say is ‘thank you’, that is enough.”
    It turns everything around, and how true that we enjoy the present blessings when we note the rough road to get where we are. Great post, Deb, and I’m excited for you–have a wonderful wedding day!

    • September 25, 2013 at 5:31 am

      Thank you! (These words are, indeed, my favorite prayer, and I’m trying to get Li’l D in the habit of saying them nightly.) Somehow, I feel the balance shifting even more toward excited as I read these awesome words. It’s gonna be great. 🙂

  3. September 24, 2013 at 8:07 pm

    Have to watch those movies! Interesting idea for a post. Love it!

    • September 25, 2013 at 5:32 am

      Thanks. It didn’t really begin as an idea. 🙂 It began, as many of my posts do, as a question. “Why can I not get that image out of my head?” Writing it out, as always, helps me figure it out!

  4. September 24, 2013 at 8:15 pm

    Congratulations on reflecting on both your gratitudes & your sorrows; they each belong somehow to the other. I salute your courage & honesty, & wish you much deep happiness for the future. Best wishes from Oz, gabrielle 🙂

  5. September 24, 2013 at 8:56 pm

    Hey, sometimes the coolness of the bathroom floor is the most soothing place there is. ♥

  6. September 25, 2013 at 5:01 am

    I give thanks for the bad because it helps me recognize and appreciate the good. And Anthony is right, Quentin Tarantino is brilliant 😉

    • September 25, 2013 at 5:39 am

      So very much agreed! I recently read a novel whose protagonist scoffed at the idea experiencing bad helps amplify appreciation for good. We’d have some interesting conversations, that protagonist and I. Holding the bad–and the good within it, such as the intense friendships developed with my siblings as a result of it–close to heart helps me also nurture an enhanced sense of wonder for all the amazing not-bad and downright wonderful now in my life. ♥

  7. September 25, 2013 at 5:38 am

    You remain my favorite place of restful peace. This is because you are a reflection of truth and a mirror. I love your reflections, they are sane and honest.

    • September 25, 2013 at 5:41 am

      I was just about to step away from my computer and start racing about the morning when I refreshed comments. I’m glad I did. Your words, whether 10, 100 or 1,000, always make me feel there’s a direct heart to heart connection between us. I have a million things I want to say to you (your comment before this one! OH!), but it will be a little while due to energy constraints. So for this moment, I will say thank you, with a great deal of love. You brighten my world with your honesty and compassion. Thank you.

  8. September 25, 2013 at 8:26 am

    My heart soars for you! To be in a happy, safe place, raising children with a man who loves you and them. This is the story that deserves to be told.

    • September 29, 2013 at 10:01 am

      This comment filled me with joy when I first read it, when I read it again a little later that day, and has the exact same impact now. You say so much (and so sweetly) with a few words!

  9. September 25, 2013 at 10:13 am

    While I didn’t have the … shall we say, “interesting” … life pre-marriage as you’ve had, starting life as a husband was quite the seismic shift in my life, from being cared for, to caring for; from being a passenger, to having to drive the car (and with VERY little experience!). While it’s become a cliche, “that which does not kill you makes you stronger” really is true, and with what you’ve been through, Wolverine’s adamantium has NOTHING on you. You’ll do great, as you always do. Take the best advice I ever received – make time to make memories. Savour you special day, and make some great memories, even if one of them is panic-strickenly chasing after the floor runner as it starts to re-roll just as the bride is due to walk out! (Like you couldn’t tell that happened to me. 😉 ) And enjoy – moving past all your former challenges will be the best wedding gift you’ll receive. (Unless somebody gives you a Roomba! 😀 )

    • September 29, 2013 at 10:02 am

      That is quite the image! I feel like we’ll have enough little kids there to ensure laughter is inevitable. That thought, too, is one for smiles . . . as are your parting words! Thank you for the encouragement, now and always. ♥

  10. September 27, 2013 at 11:02 pm

    Beautiful, as always. ❤

  11. September 29, 2013 at 5:42 am

    You’re going to make a wonderful wife, Deborah.
    The very fact you realize how much weight comes with two simple words, proves it.
    Be well and good luck.

    • September 29, 2013 at 10:03 am

      I read this earlier, inevitably sniffling. You’ve imparted beautiful, hopeful perspective with your words. Thank you, Hook. So much.

      • September 29, 2013 at 11:22 am

        Think nothing of it, Deborah, you’re a good egg.

  12. October 1, 2013 at 8:37 am

    Even if your posts aren’t happily humorous, they can be happily contemplative, or profound. Even though I wasn’t snortling, I’m still smiling.

  1. September 29, 2013 at 10:15 am
  2. January 1, 2016 at 7:50 am

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