Running on empty

As Rita in Halfway There, I had a speech to deliver. It was daunting to memorise, but I did in the end and I think I pulled it off well.

At one point in the speech I said: “I feel so empty sometimes and that emptiness goes way down deep to where it seems like there’s no bottom to it. To where there’s no light at all. Just darkness.” 

If I had to deliver those lines right now, there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house. Certainly not mine. Because that is how I am feeling at the moment. Empty.

Well, I’m not sure that’s quite true. Surely emptiness suggests an absolute absence of anything and I am feel plenty. If what emptiness really means (or at least means in this context) is the absence of anything positive, then, yes, that’s me.

Sometimes Facebook memories can be happy ones or funny ones. Sometimes there is no other word for them than cruel. Take this one that popped up yesterday.

Christmas 2017. Stella in her chair, Roxie curled up on the rug in front of the woodstove. I probably would have considered using this photo for my next Christmas card, but that would have been too painful as Roxie died the following October. At least I still had Stella.

Six years later, there are no Christmas decorations and no cat sleeping by the fire. Empty house. Empty me.

A couple of hours of respite last night when I went to see a screening of last year’s panto, Cinderella, and was reminded of the amazing piece of magic we made. 

Every cast member perfect for their role, beautiful costumes, beautiful sets, all bringing to life the great script (which I did substantially rewrite). As the fairy godmother said (one of my lines): “Harry Potter’s got nothing on me.”

Yes, lovely, but then it was home to the empty house and feeling empty again.

Meanwhile, I can’t get the refrain from this song out of my head.