This past weekend marked the 60th anniversary of the theatre I so dearly call home. Together with the people I claim as my third family, we embarked upon a three day weekend of festivities and fun; honouring this thing that brought us together and continues to be an insanely big time suck for all of us while still being addictive enough that none of us can leave.
Only, after arriving there on Friday evening I heard the sad news that one of our former members had suddenly passed away. He was known as “Dicker Mann” (fat man) or DM for short all around and everything felt surreal from that moment on. Here we were gathered to celebrate a thing we all had in common while one of our friends was suddenly gone; missing from the ranks and this life; my life and our lives as a community.
I understand how dying and loss works, I’ve had to learn it the hard way over and over again and even he was linked to this. I can still picture him and my Mom sitting together in our living room. She was already sick and he was very supportive.
For the past three days I have kept thinking about DM. He was the first person from the theatre I ever met way before I had the idea to join myself and he also was the first director I acted with. Life is funny in the way that it brings joy and sadness so close together.
Friday evening we all gathered in the auditorium before the audience arrived. In the background the orchestra, who was our act for that night, was doing their last fixes before the show whereas we were standing in silence for a minute remembering our friend and team member. I can’t really convey my feelings, it seems, because they are so confused in itself. One minute he was here the next, gone.
I can’t really draw parallels to my mom since she was gone many months before she actually passed away and I had so much time preparing myself for it. Also, there is the obvious reason that the death of your mother is simply something else. It changes everything regardless of how much I was trying to believe it wasn’t so. It took me over a year to be more or less over it (at least as over as one can ever be) though this isn’t the place to discuss her death. I have done so many times in the past on this blog.
My brain can’t compute this new information yet it seems. Like snipping your fingers your life can be over and all that remains are memories; feelings and perceptions other people have had of you, which is why I am taking the time to remember him on here. Taking a moment in time, like a picture as I so like to do only it’s a snippet of feelings cobbled together by words rather than pixels and colours.
Dear friend, you will be missed and thanks for everything.