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While running the vacuum today, I saw an index card booklet had fallen from Robin's desk near her chair. I don't go near that area often. I use her computer once in a while to register books for the Halloween giveaway, but haven't done much straightening there.
This was a reminder of why.
The index cards held study lines from the play "An Old Album," which we performed together for the Shelterbelt Theater, as part of one of their last "From Shelterbelt With Love" compilation shows. In the play, a woman dying of cancer is visited by her teen idol, a one-hit wonder who spends most of his time there being a bit too self-absorbed. At the end of the story, through her words, he experiences a revelation of how his song affected her, and possibly others.
Yeah. That hit home so hard. During our lives together, she always thought of others first. I was often too wrapped up in my own head. Talk about type-casting.
I spent the next fifteen minutes a complete wreck, while trying to finish cleaning up. I swore, a lot.
Then I started to remember the time we spent together, working on that show.
A lot of the plays I've done, especially in Omaha, have been without family. Very seldom have Robin and I shared a stage. The times we did; those were special.
I had another part in that show, can't remember exactly what it was right now. Maybe "First Impressions," or that could have been a different time. "An Old Album" was in the second act. She had trouble with the stairs, so she spent most of her time ensconced in the left wing behind the seating area. She had her lighted crochet hooks to keep busy.. I spent some time back there with her - not nearly enough. Like I said, too wrapped up in my own head.
Hell, I spent more time reading from my tablet. Damn that thing anyway. Once an alarm on it went off during the show - a rooster crow sound - and I couldn't shut it off. Ending up having to run downstairs while I turned the tablet off.
Craig Bond made an album cover for me. Photoshopped his fit body with my face. I still have it, somewhere. Can't find the file - might be on my dead laptop.
Robin gave away at least two handmade pieces during the course of that show. I don't even remember the names of the recipients - I think I'd recognize them by sight, and I know I'm still friends on FB. I hope they still get use from those items. I know at least two "cat blankets" are buried in the backyard, and though it was the right thing to do at the time, I even regret doing that, because there will be no more.
It was while this show was running that we saw the movie "Argo." I remember telling Colleen that she bore a resemblance to one of the actresses. Can't remember which one now. Argo had quite an impact on us, too, because we lived through that time and never knew what Carter had done. He lost re-election because he refused to publicize his part in the hostage crisis.
We used her wedge pillow on the stage bed so she could lie down and still be seen. At this point in time, she didn't absolutely need it to sleep. Later on, that would change.
During rehearsals, we found a nice sushi restaurant where the director worked - had a few rehearsals upstairs. I don't think it's open anymore - they had a fire? We ate there only a few times, but it was nice.
They played intro music for every skit - Robin found the perfect one for ours: "Mary Was An Only Child" by Art Garfunkel. One of her favorites. She was always good at finding music for shows.
The script called for a specific song - "Every Time A Bluebird Cries." I had to buy that one.
Once that song started, it went on repeat for the entire rest of the play. I tuned it out, until today. After listening to the lyrics again, it has gone into my unofficial Grief playlist. Actually, both of these. Now that I've named it, I'll probably go ahead and assemble it.
This entry has been kind of rambling. I guess the whole point is, by remembering the time we shared, instead of just the bit at the end, I'm healing -- but the healing hurts. Even the happy memories are sad. I want so much more than I can have.
This was a reminder of why.
The index cards held study lines from the play "An Old Album," which we performed together for the Shelterbelt Theater, as part of one of their last "From Shelterbelt With Love" compilation shows. In the play, a woman dying of cancer is visited by her teen idol, a one-hit wonder who spends most of his time there being a bit too self-absorbed. At the end of the story, through her words, he experiences a revelation of how his song affected her, and possibly others.
Yeah. That hit home so hard. During our lives together, she always thought of others first. I was often too wrapped up in my own head. Talk about type-casting.
I spent the next fifteen minutes a complete wreck, while trying to finish cleaning up. I swore, a lot.
Then I started to remember the time we spent together, working on that show.
A lot of the plays I've done, especially in Omaha, have been without family. Very seldom have Robin and I shared a stage. The times we did; those were special.
I had another part in that show, can't remember exactly what it was right now. Maybe "First Impressions," or that could have been a different time. "An Old Album" was in the second act. She had trouble with the stairs, so she spent most of her time ensconced in the left wing behind the seating area. She had her lighted crochet hooks to keep busy.. I spent some time back there with her - not nearly enough. Like I said, too wrapped up in my own head.
Hell, I spent more time reading from my tablet. Damn that thing anyway. Once an alarm on it went off during the show - a rooster crow sound - and I couldn't shut it off. Ending up having to run downstairs while I turned the tablet off.
Craig Bond made an album cover for me. Photoshopped his fit body with my face. I still have it, somewhere. Can't find the file - might be on my dead laptop.
Robin gave away at least two handmade pieces during the course of that show. I don't even remember the names of the recipients - I think I'd recognize them by sight, and I know I'm still friends on FB. I hope they still get use from those items. I know at least two "cat blankets" are buried in the backyard, and though it was the right thing to do at the time, I even regret doing that, because there will be no more.
It was while this show was running that we saw the movie "Argo." I remember telling Colleen that she bore a resemblance to one of the actresses. Can't remember which one now. Argo had quite an impact on us, too, because we lived through that time and never knew what Carter had done. He lost re-election because he refused to publicize his part in the hostage crisis.
We used her wedge pillow on the stage bed so she could lie down and still be seen. At this point in time, she didn't absolutely need it to sleep. Later on, that would change.
During rehearsals, we found a nice sushi restaurant where the director worked - had a few rehearsals upstairs. I don't think it's open anymore - they had a fire? We ate there only a few times, but it was nice.
They played intro music for every skit - Robin found the perfect one for ours: "Mary Was An Only Child" by Art Garfunkel. One of her favorites. She was always good at finding music for shows.
The script called for a specific song - "Every Time A Bluebird Cries." I had to buy that one.
Once that song started, it went on repeat for the entire rest of the play. I tuned it out, until today. After listening to the lyrics again, it has gone into my unofficial Grief playlist. Actually, both of these. Now that I've named it, I'll probably go ahead and assemble it.
This entry has been kind of rambling. I guess the whole point is, by remembering the time we shared, instead of just the bit at the end, I'm healing -- but the healing hurts. Even the happy memories are sad. I want so much more than I can have.
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