To say the last 24 hours have been hell would simply make it seem as if my life in NYC were one predictable wash of emotion. But these past 24 hours have been anything but predictable.
I've made a lot of off-color jokes in my time. I would say a large percentage of them have circled around the subject matter of one particular musical:
Fiddler on the Roof.
My first encounter with this gem was back in 5th grade when it was rumored there would be a local children's production at my summer camp. Being the attention monger that I am, I quickly let the director's daughter know (because children hold the real power) that I had every intention of playing THE FIDDLER. Hot off of my fame from the previous year's
Tom Sawyer, I knew I was a shoe-in.
Unfortunately, she set me straight (well, not STRAIGHT, but straight) and explained "the fiddler" was not actually a character, but perhaps I would make a great Tevye or Motel...
because where I'm from people like me can play Tevye and Motel. Shoot, I didn't meet a real Jewish person until college so typecasting was not a thing yet. I even played a grandmother in 2nd grade.
Once I had seen the movie, it became one of my favorites. I watched it every time I was home sick from school...because that was really the only time I ever had 5 hours to kill.
I continued to make jokes about the musical for a decade, exclaiming as recently as this year "Damn, if only that
Fiddler tour weren't Non-Eq..."
So when I was offered an appointment from my agent, I laughed it off as a joke...until he responded with a second e-mail saying "No, seriously, next Thursday, be there."
Fyedka. HOW could I forget about blonde, Non-Jewish hottie Fyedka.
Oh, because he says three lines and doesn't sing a note. Not exactly on my dream role list.
But I was determined to book it...or anything...at this point in my life, so I drank nothing but water for days and didn't go out and arranged my work schedule so I'd have a good night's sleep!!
And then my co-worker showed up in tears over boy drama (I feel you girl but *dealbreaker*) and just as I was about to ask the boss to go home, she was on her way out the door and I...I picked up my tray of glasses to polish and quietly wept
and kept weeping until the clock hit 1AM and until I walked into my door at 2 AM and until my alarm went off at 8 AM
and when I walked out of my 30 second audition and I considered how I had been prepping for days for 30 seconds and how dismissive those hicks from the suburbs were to ME! someone who had the most BEAUTIFUL Fyedka appropriate blonde hair and European bone structure, and as I began to angry-text my agent
I received a message that my uncle had passed away. My father's best friend actually but...the family you choose is the hardest to lose.
And as I stood on the northern edge of Times Square, suddenly it felt as if all of New York had fallen silent. I looked down to notice a wet spot on my suede Sperry Top Siders and realized I was crying.
I kept my head down for a minute and stood still, knowing that as soon as I looked up all the sounds of New York would come back and so I found my way to the N train staring at the sidewalk, but at least in the subway my tears would blend with my sweat.
My Catholic guilt began immediately as I received a response from my agent and all the things I had bitched about for the last 24 hours seemed so stupid and how if I could just go back to work I would stay until 4 AM if this would all just go away.
And you know when you're on the train in a car with 40 people you don't know, and you know THEY don't know, but somehow you feel like they know something's wrong with you but you don't know where to look or who to call or why your phone is still out with a half formulated text to your dad because you've never had to deal with something like this so far away from home?
and you realize you're growing up so fast?
And then you remember all those times he was there with you at Disney World, and how your dad would call him every five minutes he wasn't there with you at Disney World and how every time you drank a Blue Moon you'd have to pose for a cheesy picture with your parents to send him and how he was there with you the first time you saw Northwestern and how they gave you a better graduation present than your grandparents and how much you were looking forward to the wedding in October and Christmas in Disney World with his family.
And then you go back to the stage of ANGER because you're still trying to TEXT your father and you think what a little shit you are because you can't even keep it together to make a phone call.
and how the people on the N train just don't understand when you shout "FUCK!" because you realize you've missed your stop but maybe that lady who gave you the mean look would give you a hug if you could just explain.
But you make it off the train and grab a meatball sub on your way home because it's how you'd planned to reward yourself after your audition and food is the only thing that sounds comforting right now, so you go home with your meatball sub and your Diet Coke and you turn on the TV even though you're not really watching,
but the noise helps the city not feel so empty.
And as you look at your phone again to see the half formulated text to your dad, you just hit SEND because you're exhausted and you know he understands that you are not very good at these things and you were looking at all the Facebook condolences so overwhelmed and confused because
I think, America, that we forget how to grieve.
Or maybe we just have too many ways to grieve now.
Some of us call or text or send a card. Some of us post a Facebook status and wait for responses. Some of want to be alone. Some of us use second person narrative to avoid emotional contact. Some of us use humor.
Some of us watch
Fiddler on the Roof with a new understanding.
But I have always believed and unfortunately learned in my short life, the important thing is not HOW we grieve, but THAT we grieve.
Today, the world lost a great man. I would say the world lost one of the top 2 greatest men I have ever known.
But the world will continue to lose great men and women, and we will continue to grieve them any way we know how. What is most important is that we know, even while we're shut away in our rooms watching
Fiddler on the Roof,
we are not alone.
Even those empty stares on the subway from people we don't know who bump us on the crowded streets of NYC and tell us to "Fuck off" have lost great men too. Maybe they're on their way to get a meatball sub amidst a whirlwind day of musical theatre and grief just like you...I mean me.
And as my phone buzzes with a text from my father, and as I hang up with my mother who is somehow consoling ME, I am SO #blessed and #grateful to know I am not alone.
So do me a favor and call your parents, your sister, your brother, your friend. Tell them you love them. And tonight, before you go to bed, say a little prayer for my uncle and his family...my family. If you don't believe in God, tear a page out of your science book in his honor.
Life is a difficult thing to live and lose. Why not do it together?
Swiftly fly the years,
TJB: Making It
I don't think you understand how serious I am when I say:
