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epitome of incomprehensibility
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I mentioned this in a kind of jumbled way before, but someone in my theatre group died suddenly on Wednesday night. I heard about it Thursday morning.
His name was Jonathan. His husband was with him when he died; he also has family outside the province who didn't get to say goodbyes in person.
As for the theatre group, he wasn't involved in 2024-25 when I_joined_a_band_of_musical_pirates, but he's been there on and off for twenty years. That included directing some of the plays.
So I didn't know him as well as a lot of people there, but knowing that secondhand_stress can be challenging, I braced myself before Friday's rehearsal, telling myself:
1) Take care of yourself too
2) But don't make this about you
(other people are grieving him more)
and then I ended up feeling helpless because instead of going_around_being_supportive, I too was limited by physicality - PMS, which is sometimes barely noticeable, hit me with stomach cramps; I left early for the bus, not wanting to wait a long time for the next one in the cold
and then I forgot one of my bags, prompting me to text people a request for help (someone found it and will bring it on Tuesday).
I mean, no one's blaming me for having stomach cramps and finding -18 C weather uncomfortable. Those are normal things. Like I said: take care of yourself but don't make this about you.
Wish I wasn't so absent-minded, though.
But about him and the practice. At the beginning, before we started working on H.M.S. Pinafore, we gathered around and listened to memories from the directors and committee members.
Colleen said more information about what caused his heart attack would give closure in the sense of "how" but not "why" - and that seems like a good assessment -
Turns out it wasn't completely out of the blue: it was caused by internal bleeding in his chest, a rare complication of his surgery the week before to remove "benign" growths.
People who knew him for years shared memories; I assembled a few of mine in "Jonathan."
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