4)Something Wonderful
In the summer of 2018, back when I still watched cable television, I saw a commercial for the MacBook Air titled Behind the Mac. It was a one minute montage of various people working on their MacBooks accompanied by a soft sweet melody. At the very end of the commercial the phrase “Make Something Wonderful” came on the screen. I was so moved by that commercial that I immediately turned off the TV and drove directly to the Apple Store to buy myself a MacBook. I walked out of the store with a MacBook Air in hand and a dream in mind that one day I would create something wonderful.
I’ve always loved writing. When I was in 2nd grade I wrote a short story, printed it out, and placed a copy under each of my siblings’ pillows. I’m sure they all still have their copy. Every year for most of my childhood I would write, direct, and star in my own play on Christmas Eve.
In high school I was all set to pursue journalism/broadcasting in college. But that all changed one day. It was towards the end of my Junior year when my Latin teacher told the class she had news to share with us. She was quiet, busy watering her plants. Whatever it was, she was clearly having a hard time with it.
A classmate yelled out, “What? Are you retiring?”
“Why would you even say that?” another one said.
But my teacher nodded.
It was as if the principal just realized that Latin is a dead language and decided to stop running the program, forcing my teacher into early retirement.
We were all speechless. There’s something unique about having the same classmates and the same teacher year after year. We knew we were part of something special.
One day when we had a sub (she had sick days to use) we decided to make a scrapbook with each one of us writing her a letter. I wanted to make sure she knew just how much she meant to me and what a difference her class made. Initially I struggled to find the words but I knew if I just kept writing something profound would come up.
And so on a lined piece paper, written in blue ink, at the age of 16 ½, I wrote the following sentence:
“I want you to be the first to know that I’ve decided to become a Latin teacher when I grow up.”
I carefully removed the paper out of my binder and placed it into the scrapbook.
And then I had to become a Latin teacher.
Mindy Kaling once wrote that if she hadn’t worked in Hollywood, she’s certain she would have become a Latin teacher.
I’m certain that if I didn’t become a Latin teacher, I would have done something cool.
I’m grateful to work alongside the most dedicated teachers and to have taught(entertained) so many exceptional students.
But throughout my career I still heard a voice telling me I’m supposed to be doing something else.
That voice, well it belongs to my grandma.
There are many things you should know about my grandma, but we’ll start with just these two.
She’s made it clear that If there’s ever a movie made about my life her lead role should be played by Sophia Loren.
She has told many people that I’m wasting my life away and should be writing.
I knew she was right, grandmas are always right, but it wasn’t until a brutal experience with Shingles that I realized that I might seriously need to start making some changes.
I casually once mentioned to John that I wanted to write. The next time I saw him, he handed me one of his writing books from film school.
“What’s this for?” I asked, unable to contain my smile.
“You said you wanted to write. I want you to write.”
We both just looked at each other and smiled.
That September I received an email from my incredibly thoughtful and supportive aunt in Ohio also encouraging me to write. (I’m blessed to have so many loving aunts.) A few weeks later my grandpa, my best bud, died. I slowly entered an existential crisis. After delivering my grandpa’s eulogy, there were two things that were clear to me: I wanted to write and I wanted a life with John.
The plan was to celebrate one last Christmas Eve at my grandpa’s before putting his house on the market. John and I were working on a special play for that night.
But just 5 weeks after my grandpa died John was gone too.
I was lost. I spiraled deeper down into my existential crisis unable to understand how life works.
And then, as we all know, a few months later the rest of the world joined me.
A couple days before the pandemic forced everyone to stay home, I overheard someone say “Man if I were single with no kids I would just get a bottle of wine and binge watch Netflix”. As I walked past I thought about all the things I would do if John was here for this time at home.
On one hand, I was grateful to work from home. I no longer had to worry about not getting enough sleep or breaking down in front of the kids. Yet at the same time the pandemic now cut me off from my support groups and family. I was all alone with just my thoughts.
Eventually, my brother started dropping off food for me and would stand outside my front door to talk. He would ask me things like, “What did you do all day?” or “Do you think you’ll ever change out of those pajamas you’ve worn all week?”
One night when I was laying in bed and I thought I might’ve had COVID, I yelled to John, “John! I can’t die. Because if I die then you die again with me. I have to keep going so that you keep going.” I turned over and reached for his writing book that he gave me. I thought back to that day and replayed our conversation over and over.
“I want you to write.”
From that moment on I started to write. Each day during the pandemic, I opened up that MacBook and wrote about my time with John. It didn’t matter that the writing workshop was canceled. I still had the story inside of me. Except I wasn’t writing for a publisher. I was writing for me. This was my way of preserving my favorite moments with John. I no longer had to stress about growing old and my memories of John fading. They would all be written down now and I could relive them at any time.
The first 75,000 words or so flowed freely onto the page, but I struggled to write the ending.
I sat back on my couch and reflected.
There’s a reason why I couldn’t write the last chapter.
I hadn’t lived it yet.
There was more for us to do.
Together.
For the first time I believed what so many other grievers had told me. Relationships don’t end when someone dies. They just change.
I wasn’t sure what this next chapter of my life would be, but I knew whatever it was John would be part of it.
And since it involved John, I knew I would make something wonderful.
