Month: September 2019

I think about the night before; at a bar with cast mates. We had finished a rehearsal for The Cherry Orchard, and by and far, we were drinking and getting to know each other as a cast. I was out too late, had too much to drink. I fell asleep with the TV on.

I even slept through my alarm.

I know this because I had set it for 7:30am, as I had a 9am class, and that would give me plenty of time to wake up, have a cup of coffee with breakfast, shower an by on my way to my “Intro to Theatre Costuming.” I crawled out of bed, about 7:50am. I went to the bathroom, and then walked past the TV, the TODAY SHOW was on, and went into the kitchen to get my cup of coffee. As I poured the coffee, that was the first time I heard what was being said on the TV, that a plane had crashed into a building in New York. I walked back into the living room to see what was happening. The time was 8:03am, as that was the moment that I watched the second plane crash into The South Tower. I sat down and didn’t move for close to a half hour. I remember thinking this can’t be real. This doesn’t happen in real life. I’m watching thousands of people die. This is wrong, but I can’t do anything to stop it. I was helpless.

That’s what I remember.

I found out about a month ago that a former work colleague had lost her mother after a very short illness. I found out the worst way possible; on FaceBook. I shared my condolences, but it felt hollow, and more like a public display, rather than a heartfelt statement of concern.

When my mother passed, many people who I had very little contact with, some who I haven’t heard from in years, reached out to me. No one said anything that took my sadness or pain away, I appreciated that people reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and that life will won’t be the same, but it’s not darkness forever.

I reached out to her in an email, and reminded her of the kindness that she showed me when my mother passed and offered support in any way that I can provide it.

I know, from everything I have read about grief, that sharing your experiences, and making yourself available for others who are also going through the same thing, is one of the best ways to recover. There is part of me that feels like I am being selfish; that sharing pain is actually an unburdening on to a person that shouldn’t take on more. I know that’s not how I thought about it when it was happening to me, but with all of this time that has now passed, I feel self-conscious, and exposed with sharing. Maybe I haven’t healed as much as I thought I had.

I just want my colleague knows that she isn’t alone, the same way she made me feel.