True Lies

The cast of The Secret Garden is the first group of people I have been a part of that knows nothing about my situation.

At our first rehearsal, one of the cast members saw my and Chris’ rings, which I have been wearing since he died, and commented on how pretty they are. I automatically thought she knew something happened. How could she not? Women don’t wear their husbands’ wedding rings unless there is no husband, right? Then a man from the cast whom I acted with years ago asked me what I have been up to. I told him I hadn’t done a show in years, that I had moved to Los Angeles and that I had gotten married. At that point we were interrupted by the music director to begin singing. I was relieved. I didn’t know where the conversation was going to go from there. I left feeling like I had lied to him about my life. I didn’t, though. I did get married. I also got widowed.

At our second rehearsal, I began conversing with another cast member who spent two years with her husband in Los Angeles many years ago. She talked about it being the best two years of her life, filled with carefree fun and freedom. They loved L.A. It’s now years later and they’re still married and now they have four children. I began to feel very sad. Sad for the life Chris and I will never have and sad that we couldn’t have been happier in Los Angeles. Neither of us wanted children, but still, something about children tells a story of the future; of love, commitment and lifelong happiness together. I began crying in the car on the way home and didn’t’ stop until I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

For a time, I wondered when I was going to get the chance to tell people in the cast what had happened. Yes, I did get married but my husband died. Somehow, every time I thought about it, I came to the same conclusion; there’s no reason for them to know; in such a happy atmosphere, there’s no reason to bring anyone down. I began thinking about my life, my experiences and my choices past and present. I have choices. I didn’t have a choice in Chris’ death, but I did have a choice in how I reacted to his illness and now, in how I react to his death. In the beginning (yeah, I know…it’s still the beginning), I had caught myself in the act of walking in what I have come to call my “widow stance”; my head slightly bowed, shoulders rounded, serious face and basically a demeanor that says, “I’m very sad because of what happened to me.” Somehow, maintaining that stance, though exhausting and unnatural, made me feel loyal to my and Chris’ love and respectful of his memory. I simply didn’t allow myself to portray an image other than that. I felt that to do that would be to leave Chris behind. I now can see my choices.

After three months of grieving, I had come to believe that I had opened up many doors into my self when, in fact, I had sealed doors that desperately need to be left open. Behind door #1, safely concealed from my consciousness, was the truth that Chris is never coming back. Behind door #2 was the fact that I actually can be happy again someday and behind door #3 still resides half of my confidence that I can live the rest of my life, if I choose, without a man by my side. Do I want to spend the rest of my life as a single woman? Not really. Will I die if I do? Not from being alone.

One thing is true. With my sad story, I will attract only the sad stories of others. To act victimized is to remain in the past with Chris. Conversely, to repair myself and live according to the values and morals that my relationship with Chris has taught me is to carry Chris into the future within me, always. With a mind open to awareness, healing and growing, I will learn to spread the love I had for Chris to all other areas of my life and in turn, attract love, happiness and contentedness from those around me.

I’m beginning to shape my thoughts into the belief that despite its twists, turns and sometimes horrid events, life can be wonderful, again. This is really a match of wits; me against me, a game of great strategy in which I am my own opponent. May the best me win.