With butterflies in my stomach, last Saturday I sat in the darkened theatre at the Cinema Arts Centre, a storied theatre in Huntington, Long Island, waiting for my short, deeply personal film “Perpetual” to be screened.

I sank into the soft, cushioned seats, as I had hundreds of times before, staring ahead at the screen. The same large screen that had been filled by Meryl Streep, Emma Stone, and yes even Marilyn Monroe, suddenly appeared with my oversized likeness.

This was not me as an actress – despite my Carey High School thespian credentials- but a 69-year-old woman, as unvarnished and unfiltered as the story and truth being told. The large theatre was drop-dead silent as it filled with my distinctive voice speaking my story.

Using my voice was key. As a child, I was more than tongue-tied. My uncomfortable relationship with words often led me to consider myself not only shy but inarticulate when speaking.

For this shy little girl who was too scared to raise her hand in class and use her voice, the young woman, so hampered by shame for decades that she kept silent, pushing the words down with an eating disorder or submerging them in alcohol, this was a profoundly moving experience.

To be recognized for my authenticity was affirming. As an artist, to be rewarded for this different expression of storytelling was gratifying

It was an affirmation that it is never too late for any of us to speak up, to tell our stories and expand ourselves in the ways we want to share them.

The tears held back were as layered as the story on the screen, but they burst out when the dedication appeared at the end and I saw my mother’s name large on the screen.

Betty Joseph Edelstein

This week is her yahrzeit, and oh, how I wish I could have called her to tell her about this experience.

Post Script

“Because my family connections have slowly dwindled through death, distance and disinterest the need to physically be among my relatives in the cemetery provided me with a profound feeling of inclusion eluding me in real life”   Sally Edelstein “Perpetual”

As I watched the film, I was deeply grateful to be surrounded by dear friends viewing the film unfold together.

The irony that not one member of my extended family was there in that theatre to bear witness to my story was not lost on me.

As I looked at the few empty seats in my row, seats that could easily have been filled by a few family members who lived nearby but chose not to attend, brought home the profound sense of dismissal from family I have long struggled with.

The very feelings that propelled this story.

For a moment, I envisioned an earlier time when those seats would have happily been filled by my parents, Uncles, Aunts, and cousins who lived on Long Island.

Now my only brother, who lives minutes from the theatre, a brother who works at  Newsday, a sponsor of the film festival, didn’t deem to come.

It is clear his dismissal is perpetual.

Letting go of expectations is an endless process. We all do require perpetual care.  We need to find it with those able to give it, and I am thankful to have found that with others in my life who give in abundance.