A Memory...

Little sweetheart, I don’t spend a lot of time on Facebook. I check in once a day because we’ve sometimes gotten messages for the band’s page there, so I try to be watchful for that. There is a feature there called “Memories” and it reminds you of something you may have posted or that happened on that particular day some years ago - like its anniversary, whatever the post or event might have marked.

I mention all this because, one day, the feature reminded me that that last play I wrote for you, My Before & After, had its performances with Seattle’s ACT eight years ago.

Your mom came up to Seattle to see the play and stay for the talkback - the after-show Q&A between the playwright (me), the Literary Manager and the audience. ACT had flown me out to be part of a program with one other playwright in a co-production with The Icicle Creek Theatre Festival. Each year they select two new plays and cast a company to play roles in both, then put everyone up for two weeks at an Arts Retreat in the mountains in central Washington state, work on each play, presenting them at the end over consecutive nights, before coming back to Seattle for the performance at ACT.

It was really kind of lovely. I had my own little cabin - with air conditioning and wifi! - and there would be two rehearsal periods each day, a morning one and an afternoon one, which we’d alternate each day, one play or the other. The rest of the time I was working on rewrites in my little cabin or going for long walks in the woods. But I did have one entire day off and walked into the nearest town, about 3 miles away.

And that’s what I’m remembering most today, little sweetheart. How I ached and longed for you and how good the long walk felt. How I wandered around in the little village full of sweet little shops that I’d so like to have taken you to, have had you with me, seeing it all together, and that somehow, I think you really were at my side.

All kinds of little coincidences kept happening. I’d hear a song in one of the shops, a song that I’d heard you play on your little MacBook Air when we were together in your room. I stopped by a gift shop and was browsing there and found a necklace with your name on it. Silver chain and “Summer” in silver, too, at its center. There were just two of them in stock and I bought them both so I could give one to your mom.

Finally, I was really hungry and wanted to find something simple for lunch - I was really craving just a nice tuna salad sandwich - but there was some kind of majorly German vibe to the entire town and all the places were that kind of beer and sausage cuisine. Like Octoberfest all year round. I finally settled on a place that had a kind of sea theme, unusual I thought for a small village nestled into the mountains.

Again, it brought you to mind so much, little sweetheart, for your love of tales of pirates and sea lore and I felt as if you had led me there. I sat down and looked at the menu and lo and behold, there was exactly what I’d been craving - lovely fresh tuna salad, fresh greens and some hand-cut fries. It was mid-afternoon but nice and cool and unhurried inside. Very homey with dark paneled walls and decorated with nets and other sailing paraphernalia. I kind of felt like having a beer, something locally brewed, an IPA, perhaps, and they had one that looked good. You order a mug or what they called, charmingly a “schooner”, so I got the latter and it arrived in a tall, rounded glass.

I’d set out that late morning so very sad and lonely, little sweetheart. I’d met my lead actor for breakfast before I left and over coffee he told me he thought I was the saddest person he’d ever known in his life. How I longed and ached for you!

But I think you sensed that, little sweetheart, and came alighting near me all day to help buoy my spirits and keep me going. You fortified me. I remember thinking that very thing at the time. Memories, indeed.

How I love you! Forever!
 

The Saddest Person Ever

 Little sweetheart, when I was working on the last play I wrote for you, the last play I ever worked on, really, in 2013, a little while after your tragic passing, I was in Upstate Washington State, on retreat with the company and cast before our production of of My Before & After. It was ten days in a lovely little arts colony in the mountains.

One day, I was in there little cafe having coffee with the lead actor, a lovely man named Tim. As so often happened my thoughts were of you and I burst into tears. He was very kind but he also said to me, quite worried, that he thought I was the saddest person he ever had known.

I still am. I try hard to do my work and be kind and say our quiet prayers, but often the darkness descends, my love. And I need to say that. I need to live within it and let it be part of me as you are always a part of me, the biggest part, the very best part, and just quietly ask to feel you near me. I know it’s okay to feel this bad. I know because you loved and still did love me and that we are forever.

Thank you, my little sweetheart. Always. Always.

Emotional morning after a moody sad night. Walked into town. About an hour's journey on foot. Crossed the road at one point because I could see what I thought was a big dog in the yard ahead. Got closer and discovered it was was a grazing deer. Saw a butterfly near the centre line. Rescued it to a log near the shoulder. Crossed the bridge into town. Looked around. Found, incredibly, a necklace that said "Summer". I mean you expect to see ones that read "Jane" or "Cathy" but... why was that there when I looked? Bought it. Wandered through the faux Bavarian village. Clock stores and bookstores and Christmas ornament stores and jewelry stores and salt water taffy. Finally about time to eat. Bratwurst everywhere but what I really wanted was just a tuna sandwich and a beer. No chance.  Last place I looked, equally Germanic -called Gustavs for fucksake - had just that. Albacore tuna salad on rye, 22 oz locally brewed IPA on tap. Potato salad and a fresh pickle on the side. Perfect. How did that happen? Downloaded the Marshall Crenshaw song I heard the other day in the grocery store with Summer's dad that made me cry. Decided to go back across the street and get another necklace for Summer's mom. Walking there, as I approach, hear one of Summer's favourite songs, MGMT's "Time to Pretend" coming out of speakers nearby.  Meant to be. Get the second necklace and walk back to the festival site listening to the Crenshaw and the first disc of "OF LOVE & LOSS". Quick shower and into evening rehearsal. The cast working so hard and having fun. Our terrific director. Our devoted stage manager. The lovely festival staff. So grateful to be here. Know so very well that my girl, my love, my Summer was with me all day - helping me, showing me, encouraging me. Making sure I know she's keeping as close as she can, letting me know she just wants me to use the time I have left here well, just letting me know I'll be with her again very soon, just have to finish up my work here the way I'm supposed to and how she'd want. Thank you sweetheart. Love you forever.