By Constance Drugeot

Published on Curtain Call Magazine

[contains spoilers] 

“It’s all a matter of time” 

The first time I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was during the summer of 2023 when the show had a short off-West End run at the Southwark Playhouse. As I sat in the tiny auditorium, waiting for the lights to dim and the music to start, I had a feeling that it would quickly become a favourite of mine. Little did I know that this little piece of theatre would come at a time when I needed it the most. 

In the show, we follow the story of Benjamin Button across 70 years, as he ages in reverse. A man who struggles to find a place in this world because of his differences and yet, throughout the course of the show, realises that life isn’t about fitting in and being “normal” – but about making the most of the time that you have and spending it with the people you love – something that I desperately had to be reminded of.

“For a life cannot be measured by its years” 

Three years before this little show came into my life, amid the first lockdown in 2020, my dad was diagnosed with incurable lung cancer. There is no word strong enough to convey what it felt like. As I witnessed the world freeze around me, my own world came crashing down. My dad’s life now had a time limit—a death sentence. We didn’t know how long we would get – it ended up being not long at all – and that thought alone was terrifying. 

And so, I did the only thing I knew how to do best: bury all of my pain so deep that it couldn’t hurt me. The reality of it all was too awful to face so I spent these three years hiding away, refusing to admit what could – what would – eventually happen. I believed we had time. I wanted to have more time. And I tried to hold on to that hope, even though I watched my dad’s health deteriorate over the years. 

“My heart sings the song of my home” 

So, when I went to see the show, blissfully unaware of the story behind it, I didn’t expect to leave with such a heavy heart. Watching this extraordinary man, who didn’t know how long he would get, go against all the odds and fight for his “little life” – it was like a slap in the face. I had lost so much of my time drowning in my own sorrow, in my own pain, that I had forgotten what matters the most. Not the length of time we have on this earth but what we make of it. For years, I had been running away from what was hurting me. And it was time for me to come home, like Benjamin. 

“If I carry on hiding for the rest of my life, what kind of life would that be?” 

And much like Benjamin, when I did come home, I was reminded of the little time I had left with the person I love. And as he begged his love, Elowen, for more, my heart cried with him. I wanted more. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But, as the show taught me, “time and tide wait for no man” and just like Elowen, my dad’s time was running out. 

But instead of wallowing or running away, Elowen calmly accepts her fate. Because she knows she found her home, among her family. And before she goes, she teaches Benjamin to let go and accept the beautiful time we all get to have in this life – no matter how long or how short. 

“We cannot hold on to all the years we might have lost” 

The first time I heard Elowen sing ‘Time’, and all the times after that, I could only think of my dad. I still see him, feel him in the words, in the melodies of that song. And that song, that story, reminded me that I should cherish the little time I had left with him. 

A month after seeing the show, I went home, bought the sheet music for ‘Time’, and learned it on the piano. I spent the summer playing it so that the meaning behind it would not only resonate for me but also for my dad – hoping it would bring us both some peace. 

Little did I know it would be the last thing I would play for him.

“We cannot predict the length of our last breath” 

Two months and twelve days after seeing the show for the first time, on the 29th of August 2023, my dad took his last breath. He was only 61 years old, just like Elowen. 

But unlike Benjamin, I wasn’t by his side. I had gone back to London by then. Once again, was I running away from something I knew was inevitable? I don’t know. I will have to live with that my entire life. But despite the brutality of his death, the show reminded me of something important, of something that matters more than anything else: the time we had together. 

As Elowen nears her death, she sings “A life cannot be measured by its years”, this couldn’t be more true for my dad. He could have had so many years ahead of him. But I will always remember the full life he lived with us. The family he created. We were all by his side for his last summer, in the place he loved the most. He didn’t get all the years that he should have had, his time on earth was cut short, but not our love. Our love will stay forever with him. And in the end, he lived his little life. 

“For a life is but the sum of all its parts”

Even though grief has weighed heavily on my heart for the past year, I hold on to Elowen’s words. That life isn’t about the time that we have but “a memory of moments in our hearts”. That is timeless. That is forever. 

I also try to hold on to Benjamin’s story. Despite whatever life throws at you, you have to find the courage and strength to keep going and live. In a recent interview I did with the cast, Ann Marcuson beautifully said that the story was about the incredible resilience of a man who had nothing to live for and yet still rises up! It is extraordinary, and if he could do it, then so can we. So can I. 

“And even in the moment of our death, we have time” 

It is not lost on me that this show came into my life right before grief struck me unexpectedly. I guess time – or tide – had clear intentions for me. This story and these characters had something to teach me and I am listening. I promise to try and be more like Benjamin and Elowen. To find joy in the little moments and to cherish my time. To make every second count. No matter how long I get. I hope I get to make this “little life” I’m living the best one. 

So thank you, Benjamin Button and thank you, Jethro Compton and Darren Clark, for reminding me of what matters the most. Thank you for giving me the strength to believe in life in these dark days when grief overwhelms me. 

And every time I hear ‘Time’, I will think of you, Papa.

“We all have time”