I stood underneath the blue stage lights as my character tried not to weep, or maybe it wasn't my character all along. It was the closing show of Hadestown, and I was playing the role of Persephone. I had spent two weeks perfecting her character, but by the time it was the closing show, I barely had to act anymore. We started our two-week rehearsal process in July, a cast full of complete strangers brought together. On the first day of rehearsals I met V, the boy who would be playing my husband in the show, Hades. We instantly clicked and became close friends. On the stage we had to portray a devastating love between two gods, but backstage we were always joking around. Within the first week of rehearsals our whole cast had become an inseparable family, which is why it was so hard to leave it all behind.

On the last show day we finished with a matinee. The theater buzzed with excitement, and my close friends were there in the audience. The first half of the show went as planned, almost perfectly mimicking the previous shows, but when the second act began, I started to fall apart. At the beginning of act two, the devastating solo sung by the male lead, Orpheus, filled the theater. During this song, Persephone is on stage observing before she and Hades sing their big duet. As my castmate sang, a wave of strong emotions crashed over me, and then a sinking, aching feeling in my chest followed. I couldn't believe that this was the last time I would ever play Persephone.

I managed to hold back my tears during the big duet, but when it came time for our final dance, I couldn't hold it together. There is a moment where V has his back turned to me, and on a sudden swell of music, he turns around. On previous nights I had purposefully squeezed out a few tears in character for this moment, but this time it was genuine. When he turned around, tears streamed down my face, and we both knew Persephone wasn't the one who was crying. During our dance, we hugged, and I sobbed into his arms, leaving his sleeves visibly damp. It felt as if there was a rope holding all my emotions together, and during that moment, someone had torn it apart.

During the final bow, the audience roared as V and I walked out together, my face covered in smudged mascara. As we left the building, I couldn't help but cling onto V and cry some more. Leaving him felt impossible, especially since he would be off to college soon and I didn't know when I’d get to see him again. This show and these people had been my life for a whole month, all day every day, and I couldn't believe that was over. I felt like without Hadestown, there was a piece missing from my life. I was devastated, and for about a month after we closed I couldn't bear to listen to any of the songs without crying. Eventually I recovered with the help of my friends, and I tried my best to keep in contact with my castmates, but still I will always have a Hadestown-shaped hole in my soul.

I still think about being in Hadestown, and I miss it dearly. Playing Persephone was a life-changing experience for me, and I will always carry a little piece of her with me. The fact that closing the show affected me so much proved to me that theater isn't just something that I do; it’s who I am. The end of Hadestown wasn't really an end for me, it was actually the beginning of a new understanding of what I do. I don't know who I would be without theater, the community within it, and Persephone.

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