Seeing What’s Still There: An Actor’s Double Gift
A routine eye checkup reminds me of an unexpected gift: within two months, I reconnected with the younger sisters of two dear friends I had lost. Through their stories, laughter and memories, I got to feel close to Danielle and Sarah again.
What an Eye Exam Taught This Actor About Friendship, Loss, and Love
I'm at my six-month eye check up, sitting in the chair waiting to get my optic nerve photographed. I just had a visual field test and got my pressure checked. All normal.
No stomach fluttering.
I don't have glaucoma. I have what's called an optic nerve pit. As I was forming in my mother's womb, the back of my eye didn't completely close. My previous doctor wanted to do laser surgery on me.
Thank God for second opinions.
And suddenly, sitting there, I think about the double gift I got this year: somehow, within two months, the younger sisters of two dear friends I had lost came back into my life.
Danielle was my best friend in college, and Andrea was her younger sister. Once Danielle graduated, Andrea and I started hanging out together. But then Andrea transferred, and I didn't see her again.
She called last October to tell me Danielle had died.
Then I had the good fortune to see her this past July. Andrea, being the intrepid woman I remembered, drove across the country with her dog, and we met at the Butcher's Daughter in West Hollywood.
What a joyous lunch.
We laughed and cried, sharing stories about Danielle. Two hours later, we hugged and said goodbye.
A few weeks ago, I flew East to see my mom, and while I was there, I met up with Lucy, Sarah's younger sister, in New York. Sarah passed away right before 9/11.
Over the past few years, I've donated to my high school in honor of Sarah. Lucy's husband noticed, told Lucy, and she called me. Even though we didn't really know each other when we were in school, we spoke for an hour and a half like old friends.
I knew I had to see this amazing woman who had been through so much.
We met near Grand Central. Again, hours passed as we talked about our lives. She told me about the trips she takes with her children to show them the world, and how she talks to them about her sister so they know who Sarah was.
What are the odds that I would reconnect with both of them in the space of two months?
Acting, Old Friends, and the Things We Can’t Always See
I'm back in the chair waiting for the doctor, doing what actors do so well—waiting—and suddenly the tears come flooding into my eyes.
Danielle and Sarah. Two dear friends I lost years ago, somehow brought back into my life through their sisters, Andrea and Lucy. For a few hours, I got to feel close to each of them again.
How lucky am I to have experienced that?
TWICE?
This morning I was looking for my keys. Of course I hadn't put them in the bowl I have by the door. That would be too easy.
I rolled my eyes up and said, "God, please help me with the keys."
I turned around, and there they were on the table in the other room, right in front of me.
I smiled, knowing my two besties were watching over me, laughing.
Yes, it's very possible this is just my imagination. But these two beautiful spirits have been coming into my consciousness more and more. That's when my eyes fill with tears, my heart gets warm, and the day feels better.
Just because they're not on this earthly plane doesn't mean they're gone.
Love doesn't die with the person. It continues to occupy space.
It's up to me to feel it.
The doctor comes into the office, nods hello, checks all the exams I've just taken, and then examines my eyes. He's quiet, so I wait for him to speak. He doesn't say much, but I can tell he's kind.
"No change from six months ago. Your eyes are fine. No need to take the drops. I'll see you in nine months for a follow-up."
I smile, get up, thank him, and go to the car for another round of spilled tears.
Nothing has gotten worse. I just have an anomaly that happens to about one in every 10,000 people.
And somehow, a visit that was supposed to be about my eyes became about seeing something else entirely.
Andrea and Lucy gave me back pieces of Danielle and Sara I didn't know I was missing.
But that wasn't the only gift.
I also walked away with two new friends.
Maybe that's the real double gift.
Danielle and Sarah are still here in the stories, the laughter, and the people who loved them.
I just have to be willing to see them.