I am a storyteller and part-time actor. That means if I’m offered the chance to parade around for the public amusement for next to no money I grab it every time.
Right now I’m playing an Italian grandmother in a dinner theater mystery. I put on a large black dress, black high heel shoes, one rolled down black hose, and around my neck a cross and a ram’s horn.
All I needed was a wig. On my dresser is Janet’s wig which she wore after chemotherapy made her hair fall out. What better way to defy cancer’s power than to use that wig to make people laugh. I know that Janet would have found it hysterical.
I also used her large black purse from which I pulled a crucifix, prayer cards and a pair of Depends. On the night of the dress rehearsal I reached inside the bag and pulled out a card.
It was a theater ticket to the last play in which Janet watched me perform. It happened to have been directed by the same person who was directing the mystery play. I showed the ticket to him, and on his face I saw all the grief and compassion that I know dwells in the hearts of my friends.
This is how a broken heart begins to heal.