A true story....

This is a true story, I wanted to share with you all: 

I step out onto the stage, my heart doing flip flops in my chest. As the theater darkens and my cast mates take their places I hear the strains of the guitar begin to play. I take a deep breath and think of how I got here, the endless hours of music lessons the grief and aggravation I endured as I worked on my craft. I think of the daily rehearsals that left little time for homework, the injuries, the late nights, the choir rehearsals, the dance lessons where I showed I had two left feet; and the nerves always the nerves. I take another deep breath filling my lungs and slowing the erratic beat of my heart. In my mind I'm not here, I'm somewhere else completely different, alone in a quiet hall. The only people there are me, and my grandfather. I look at him, his bright face shining at me with an incandescent smile. He's beaming, and his eyes are full of pride. 

I begin to sing, to him…only to him. The song I've been practicing for months, in the rehearsal studio, on this stage, in the apartment I share with my friend Sara. It's a song I've heard others sing before, so it sounds foreign coming out of my throat and filling the room with a sound I can hardly believe is coming from me. The nerves creep up again, I push them back. No one and nothing can take this special moment away from my grandfather and I. 

My body takes over; it feels as if I always meant to sing this song. Muscle memory from a previous life perhaps? I feel myself moving to the music, but I'm not conscious of any of it. I'm drawn on note by note, my voice climbing higher and higher as the music crescendos.

I launch into the refrain; suddenly Sara is beside me singing the beautiful alto part to the song.  I take her hand feeling her love and friendship flow into me, chasing away the ever present nerves. I look at my grandfather and see tears on his face, his joy flowing over me like a warm rain. I lose myself in the music and the comfort of the joy I see radiating from my grandfather's eyes. 

The second chorus begins, now all my cast mates are singing. The world reappears and my grandfather is still there in the back of the auditorium watching me. He mouths the words "I love you." In my head I say "I love you too." Then Ben takes my hand as we've been directed to do and we move on from my song as the sound of applause crescendos in the auditorium. I look back but the auditorium has gone dark and I can no longer see my grandfather's face. 

The second chorus begins, now all my cast mates are singing. The world reappears and my grandfather is still there in the back of the auditorium watching me. He mouths the words "I love you." In my head I say "I love you too." Then Ben takes my hand as we've been directed to do and we move on from my song as the sound of applause crescendos in the auditorium. I look back but the auditorium has gone dark and I can no longer see my grandfather's face.

The musical goes on song by song, skit by skit. I cannot see Grandpa, but I can feel him there watching us, laughing when we play the funny parts, crying when the finale is near. 

After we take our bows I return to the dressing room and pick up the small card I have on my dressing room table among the pots of makeup and hair pins. It has a picture of a field on it, a reminder of life. I flip it over and gently run my finger over the name printed on the card. I've already committed it to memory:  Herman Dabb…my grandfather. He was buried a few days before opening night, and this performance was for him. Tonight I got the chance to do what I'd never done before; I got to sing for my grandfather and for that one special moment in time, it was only us. It was only my grandfather, me and the music. Tears sting my eyes as I raise them heavenward, "I love you Grandpa." I whisper.