I have just sat in front of the TV for hours watching Alfie Boe in Les Miz. I have already seen this several times. I will see it again and be mesmerized by his performance. Never mind that Hugh Jackman will play his part in the movie. Give me some mo’ Boe!

Le Miz is one of those shows that goes on and on and on. It feels interminable; I am not interested in seeing it in the theater. I can just sit on the couch and enjoy every moment without having to sit in a cramped seat and trudge back and forth to the crowded restroom.

Life is like a long musical. There have been times when I took center stage and sang my heart out. I had the crowd with me. They applauded and I bowed, lifting my hand to the balconies. At other times I slunk offstage, the critics panning me soundly the next morning. (All of this took place in my head.)

The “willing suspension of disbelief” is something usually applied to a work of fiction; I believe our lives are the same way. Otherwise we could not get through them. We must believe that they are real or we wouldn’t bring our best acting chops to the roles we are given to play.

I really believe I lost a child. I cry for her. I really believe my husband died around Christmas in 2004. I mourned him like it was real. But here I am, an actor in a play, just like Alfie Boe. Why can’t I applaud my performance just as much as I do his?

I have gotten many views of the photo I posted on Facebook of my son and I. That is because I have shown us to the audience as if we were real. We were at the cemetery that day but something in the photo says that is just another scene in the play. We are looking clearly into the eye of the camera and into the eye of God.