A Burning Love for my Husband

Tonight was the second and last performance of the show that I have been preparing and rehearsing for since January. I feel good. It’s nice not to have to feel as though I should be practicing music every moment I’m home and find free time on my hands. The pressure is gone. So is the show, however, and the experience and the structured meetings with the other cast members that had provided a sense of familiarity and a sense of home for me for the past few months. The show was a tough one which took lots of work to bring to fruition. We did it, though. We pulled it off. I had my doubts -- I think we all did -- but in the end, on the second show, we really shined, despite the fact that show number one manifested itself as more of an amateur dress rehearsal than a polished finished product. All things considered, I miss it, already.

These past two evenings of song have held a sense of melancholy without Chris here to see what I have done -- how much I have grown as a performer. He would have liked this one -- and Chris liked very few shows in which I have performed. He was very critical (not of me, though -- NEVER of me -- I was always good in his eyes -- he really had the husband thing down -- what to say, what not to say). I know he would have liked this one a lot. He would have sat with Carol, Robby and Rodney and the four of them would have had the silly time that the three of them told me they had. Apparently, a laughing fit occurred sometime during the show, which spread from Robby to Carol to Rodney. I have yet to hear the details.

I wish he could have been there. In some ways, he was. I have never felt so completely relaxed on stage in my entire life. Backstage, each time I felt myself becoming overly excited and panicky, I closed my eyes, asked Chris to be with me and meditationally brought him into my world, embracing me from behind, telling me, “You can do this. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Each time I did that, I could breathe again and I suddenly knew from the deepest part of me that this is only theater. It’s fun. It’s light. It’s not supposed to be scary or to create negative feelings. I called upon Chris’ energy when I needed it and I believe that because I know what love I had and how wonderful it was to have that love, I was able to channel it, imagine it, receive it, bask in it and breathe again. I still love him so much.

During the past three months, our director freed me in so many ways, creatively. I have never been able to relax as much as I did this past weekend. I was very focused and able to do my best without imagining that others were judging me. I could do that because our director is extremely patient, a teacher by profession, older, wiser and I believe he knows that negativity breeds negativity. I saw him mostly as an archaeologist who found me, dug up my raw talent, brushed me off day after day after week after month until he found my natural sheen and ability to permeate my own brand of beauty from my very core. He fostered an atmosphere filled with joy, patience, teaching, coaxing and the perfect measured doses of pushing me slightly past my limits into realms to which I had no idea I could travel. I have passed my personal limits and now I want to keep going, keep pushing my limits, keep bettering myself, shaping myself, honing my talent. Yes, this group had quite a large impact on me. I’m hoping I will be asked back to perform in the next show.

After the show, the cast stayed and enjoyed drinks and song at the open mike our director was hosting. We drank, sang and ate. I ordered and scoffed down a plate of nachos, which were delivered to the table coveredin jalapeno peppers, one of Chris’ favorite foods. I decided that in honor of my husband, I would eat every last one, despite the fact that I have a history of finding white bread to be too spicy. Still, this wasn’t for me. It was for Chris and I downed each one, my mouth ablaze, each pepper signifying another burst of burning love for my husband. I couldn’t stop. I wanted the message to be loud and clear. I wanted it to scream “I love you!” up to the heavens as sure as my tongue was screaming at me to eat some sour cream.

I did it for him. I think he knows and I think he laughed at my smouldering tongue and chapped lips.

I miss him. I love him. I will always love him and I know he supports me still, wherever he is, even though his absense burns like a mouthful of jalapenos. His absense burns like my love for him.

It is time now, for me to cry. I have felt it coming on for about two hours. It’s time. I’m home. I’m safe. It’s time.