Bittersweet memory

Twelve years ago today this man went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, had a massive heart attack and died before the ambulance arrived. Happy vernal equinox.

Yes, the date made it easy to remember for a long time. 

Yesterday I wasn’t thinking about it at all. Then a Facebook memory popped up from 2014 that the night before the first play I’d directed was due to open, it was already almost sold out.

Inherit the Wind, the play I’d decided to direct, despite having no experience in the role, the play that turned into a labour of love for everyone involved and a piece of theatre magic for everyone fortunate enough to see it. (After one of the performances I overheard an avid theatregoer tell someone that he’d seen the play – and film – multiple times, including twice on Broadway and ours was hands down the best production he’d ever seen.) So very sad that two of the wonderful actors listed above are no longer with us.

There is a connection between these two things.   

I didn’t get involved (other than as an audience member) with the local theatre group until after Mike died. None of the people I initially met knew Mike. But it turned out one of the cast members of Inherit the Wind did. Garry, partner (now husband) of Donna, a professional actor who really wanted to be involved in this community theatre production, had been involved with Mike in a political campaign a few years earlier. 

Opening night, the third anniversary of Mike’s death, was somewhat bittersweet. When I sought out Garry, as I had the other actors, to hug him and tell him to break a leg, I also told him what anniversary it was. He hugged me even tighter and said Mike would be extremely proud of me.

I do believe he would have been.

Twelve years. How is that possible?