Opening Doors As a Widow
For many summers, I went to Jacob’s Pillow in Beckett, MA — a famous dance haven that has been in existence for decades. I went there for many summers with my late husband (who physically died in August 2020 but years earlier mentally with Alzheimer’s Disease) and various friends. Those friends included my now deceased COO, a remarkable woman with whom I had worked as a college president close by — Southern Vermont College in Bennington, VT.
The Pillow was a true summer delight. Every visit was magical. It was a place to see people and see dance. And, I adore dance.
This summer, I decided to accept an invitation from my late COO’s husband David to join him and his family at the Pillow. We would be seeing Dorrance Dance (more on that in a minute). It would be the first time either of us had been back since the deaths of our respective spouses. Without pause, I said yes to the invite. I had hoped and fully expected to be going with my romantic partner Joe but for reasons too complicated to share here, I came alone.
I most assuredly hadn’t processed what retracing my steps meant or would feel like. I was just plowing ahead. And I was alone. I recognized the return’s possible triggering effects but not the return’s power.
I stayed at the Old Firehouse at the Red Lion Inn, Stockbridge’s iconic hotel for two nights. And the Old Firehouse was exactly that — a two story free standing building that housed firefighters. See image above. (There’s a terrific photo of them on the wall.) While it lacked the pole (too bad), it had charm and a sense of history. It felt homey.
When we arrived at the Pillow, it was as I remembered it. I hadn’t been there in 8 years. And Dorrance Dance (whom I encountered at the Pillow) had come to the College when the company was in its infancy (it is now world renowned). And that event with Dorrance Dance at SVC was nothing short of a miracle as staff and faculty and students joined her Master Class — folks I never knew knew tap.
And tap by Dorrance is not the usual tap. It is novel and sometimes fast and sometimes slow and rhythmic and combined with live music, it is creative and bold and filled with surprises and joy and life. “Tap” as a word doesn’t begin to capture what Dorrance’s talented troupe accomplishes.
So, last night with memories of both the place and the dance company and the husband of my COO and past friends and a spouse I walked back in time. And it was touching and evocative and difficult. Memories filled my head from every source: my marriage, my college presidency, my COO, my Pillow experiences, Michelle Dorrance herself, former donors.
And within those memories, the present kept creeping in — my now adult son, my new home in MA on the water, my new partner, my new work life and writing and art, my time away from dance and theater and music during COVID. And, my not having retraced certain steps. Those steps seemed too close or too hard or too far.
I was wearing sunglasses. Good thing because I had tears from memories. And I was processing as fast as I could — the past, the present and the future. And in that haze and daze, filled with a glorious outdoor dance performance by young students on the outdoor stage and then a performance at the Ted Shawn Theater with Dorrance Dance that words don’t capture — a simple WOW comes to mind. Or Unfathomable. Or Mind-Bending, I was reflecting and pondering and swimming along trying to find guardrails where none existed.
After the performance and encore, I drove back to the Old Firehouse and fell asleep immediately and this morning, I arose and remembered that the check-in person at the Red Lion Inn had mentioned that the huge red door of the Firehouse actually opened. I hadn’t focused on that until that very moment.
And, somehow, it seemed like just the right moment (at 7:45 am) to open that enormous red door — and up it cranked noisily and from the street, I could look into the downstairs of the firehouse. See the two images — the inside with the door closed and the inside with the door open.
And then it struck me, aided by a conversation with my close friend Arlene, that I had just literally and figuratively opened the door to the future. I had walked the past and in so doing, I opened the door that let the future in.
That Old Firehouse Red Door opened with a push of a button as if I was ready for the first time to hit the button. I opened and closed it twice just to make sure. And yes, as I leave the Old Firehouse shortly, I am readier than I was before these few days to proceed forward — not losing the past but not needing to retrace its steps either. And I did it alone.
I need a new path, going to new places, creating new traditions, new vistas, building new memories, trusting my feet and my heart and my mind to move in new directions. The past doesn’t disappear for sure but a door opens and we can walk through if we so choose. And, I can walk with both old and new friends. It really is a choice and not an easy one to make. I get that now. I get how hard it is to open a door. And…..
I choose to open and walk through the huge red door.
