Befriending a Princess

On Wednesday, January 20, 2016, I had an odd conversation with a dear friend of mine. The actual words we exchanged were normal enough, but there was something hanging in the air between us that I couldn’t name. There seemed to be a question in his eyes.

Hours later, sitting in my bedroom trying to determine what it was that made our encounter feel askew, I texted my friend and asked if he needed to tell me something. He quickly replied, “no.”

“There wasn’t anything you wanted to ask me tonight?”

“I don’t think so, no. I’m just tired.”

I didn’t believe him. He was prone to sweeping his thoughts and feelings under the rug and it was only after a good prodding that he would usually divulge what was troubling him. But seeing as it was past midnight, I decided to leave it alone—a group of us had a weekly, standing morning meeting and lunch date that Saturday and I knew we could chat more then.

By Saturday morning he had died.

I have thought so often of what it was he was thinking on that last Wednesday night we saw each other. My unanswered questions for him usually exist as nagging curiosities in the back of my mind, but in the winter, around the anniversary of his passing, they surface louder and more obtrusive—the curiosity turns to guilt. I am guilty of thinking time was endless and friendship was eternal.

The day he died, many of our mutual friends and colleagues gathered and spent the day together, taking comfort in each other’s presence, sharing a common grief. I found that my mind wouldn’t allow me to participate in these wakes for very long before becoming cloudy and distant. Over the next couple of weeks, anytime I found myself in a large company of our mutual friends, I would excuse myself from the gathering only to burst into tears just around the corner.

Friends were just a reminder of what was lost and the guilt that still remained. My time alone, however, allowed me to find solace in the most unexpected way.

I’ve since learned that, psychologically speaking, peace is fleeting in the first moments of grief and it’s often in strange places that our souls will find rest. It’s why many people will make life altering decisions immediately following the death of a loved one — affairs, large purchases, vacations, etc. We’re all looking for something to shield us from the spiraling thoughts of loss.

I found my shield in a television show for children — Sofia the First.

It was in this simple animated show, about a peasant girl who, overnight, becomes a princess (talking to animals, casting fairy spells, and learning from your favorite Disney princesses the whole way), that I was able to escape the real world of death and guilt for a few hours at a time. It sounds ridiculous of course—a senior in college enjoying a trite cartoon full of glittery tropes and moral lessons, but it was a pure escape.

Sofia the First was a world where things turned out right. Every adventure resulted in treasure, every encounter with a villain triumphantly advanced the cause of good, every dispute with a friend ended in reconciliation and not once in the entire series did anyone die.

It was safe and always made me smile. It gave me pleasure through even my deepest guilt.

I continued watching Sofia the First long after my friend had died—long after I needed a regular escape from the real world. I ended up keeping up with Sofia‘s adventures all the way up to the show’s series finale in 2018. I played it so much in my apartment that it became a running joke amongst my friends, and 5 years later my college roommates still know all the words to the theme song. And as much as they don’t want to admit it, I think they too found a unique peace in the show. While much of our social and academic lives were entirely normal, the three of us would occasionally find ourselves discussing a plot or song from a recent episode when we would catch up at night.

Even now as an adult with a mortgage, multiple college degrees, and experience as a college professor, if I’m ever feeling blue, or in need of a reminder of the dear friend I lost 5 years ago, I can always flip on Netflix and escape to the Kingdom of Enchancia.

And if you, dear reader, are facing trials and darkness in your own life now, might I suggest you run away from home and join me on some of Sofia’s magical adventures—don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.