Turning Out the Light

So I’ve been thinking…

I began watching Guiding Light at age 12–28 years ago.  And now I have five days left.  That’s it.  Then the light goes out forever.  And I am already grieving the loss of it.

I’ve watched through the show’s glory days and periods of embarrassment.  I’ve seen it win Emmys and seen it be both justly and unjustly snubbed by the Academy.  But through it all, I’ve watched my GL. 

It is hard to articulate what Guiding Light has meant to me all these years.  I’ve been teased by friends and family alike for my fealty to the show (or indeed to any soap opera).  But how do you explain the comfort I’ve received in knowing that, whatever else is going on in my life, Guiding Light will be there waiting for me?  How do you help someone understand that you were “there” when Phillip and Rick took Beth and Mindy to the prom?   That you were there when Reva jumped into the fountain and declared herself the “slut of Springfield?” There when Maureen died.  There when Lillian found out she had breast cancer.  There when Bert had her leg amputated.  And there for every Bauer Barbecue for the last 28 years. 

What words should I use to let someone know what this show–and these characters–have meant to me?  It isn’t an exaggeration to say that I feel like a close friend is dying–and for months we’ve known its death date.  Each weekday since the cancellation announcement was made, I watch the show and think, “we’re one day closer to the end of Guiding Light.”  The day after the show’s final day of filming a few weeks ago, I was struck by the realization that “today is the first regular workday in 72 years that Guiding Light isn’t being filmed. ” The thought broke my heart.  Yes Guiding Light is “just a TV show.”  I understand that the characters aren’t real people.  But for those of us who love show, Guiding Light was so much more than a soap opera. 

The extinguishing of the Light marks a passing of an era.  And I for one am sad to see it go.