Edit Desk: Authentic like Lady Gaga

Editor’s Note: Names in this story have been changed to protect personal information.

Walking into the nursing home, the room felt quiet and still. Residents sat in wheelchairs watching a Hallmark movie on TV. Some were sleeping. 

The stillness broke when a woman in her 80s rolled through in her wheelchair, wearing hot pink lipstick, a bleach-blonde mullet wig, a feather boa and a Lady Gaga T-shirt. She carried a baby doll in her arms and belted “Born This Way,” like she was performing for a sold-out concert. 

Smiles and laughter spread around the room. The energy shifted entirely. 

I’d first come to the nursing home for my senior capstone project, where my job was to help run activities for the residents. 

Coming into this role, I expected long hours of bingo and board games. Instead, I found myself learning about people, my values and life itself. 

The lessons I learned from the woman in the mullet wig went far beyond what a classroom could teach.

Her name was Becky. She was a resident at the nursing home. She would perform almost every day in the living room, surrounded by residents with memory loss and age-related illnesses.

As the weeks passed, volunteering became the best part of my day. 

I spent my mornings dancing, talking and laughing with Becky. We quickly grew close. 

Every morning when I arrived, she was already waiting for me with a smile and usually a joke or a new costume to show off.

The more time I spent with Becky, the more I understood why she chose certain costumes. She loved to dress up as Lady Gaga because she also loved Tony Bennett. Bennet and Gaga were close friends who made music together. Becky’s face would light up whenever I played their performances on the TV.

Looking back, it was clear the costumes and jokes weren’t just for her. They were her way of cheering up the people around her. That same outlook showed in other parts of her life, even in the things that carried deep pain.

One day, I asked her why she always carried that baby doll. 

She told me it reminded her of one of her children who died very young. 

Even though it had been many years since she lost her child, she still held onto the doll.

Becky faced serious health challenges, yet she never stopped smiling, laughing and comforting the people around her.

A few months after her Lady Gaga performance, and before I left for vacation with my parents, Becky was in terrible pain. 

I’d never seen her like that before, and it broke my heart.

While on vacation at a family dinner, I glanced down at my phone. I got a notification that read, “Tony Bennet dead at 96.”

My heart began to race, and I left the dinner table. I knew in my heart Becky was gone too.

I sprinted into work after vacation and went straight to Becky’s room. I peeked in, and all of her photos, decorations, feather boas, costumes and knick-knacks were gone. She wasn’t there. 

I could feel the emptiness of that room radiate throughout the building. Staring into the empty hospital-style room, I too felt empty. 

I knew she was gone, but I didn’t want to believe it.

I bolted to my office and logged into my email.

The first message read, “We are sorry to inform you that Becky has passed away.” It was dated July 21 — the same day Tony Bennet died. My throat tightened as I held back tears. 

Even though I was devastated by Becky’s death, I knew that this wasn’t the end of our story.

As I get older and time continues to pass, parts of her will live on in me forever. 

When I think of Becky, I don’t dwell on her final days or her struggles. I remember the feather boas, the mullet wig and the Lady Gaga performances that put a smile on everyone’s face.

Becky showed me that being yourself isn’t only about expression. It’s also about using that joy to lift up the people around you.

I may not walk into class wearing a feather boa and a mullet wig like she did, but I carry her memory with me and strive to live unapologetically, just as Becky taught me.

And now, as I’m writing this, I found a post about her. At the very bottom of the page was a message that felt like her voice echoing back to me. 

“In a world where you can be anything, be yourself.”