Grieving in Real Time

My Dad died last year and I have often thought about how I would deal with that in my writing.  At one time, I had thought about writing a play about the family who is around when someone is dying.  Complete with cockroaches, which we had a complete infestation of during the time my Dad was dying at home.  It seems like an impossible task.

But Luis Alfaro wrote a one-man show about it less than a year after his Dad died.  It's called St. Jude, after the hospital he was in here in LA.  And this is not a review, so that's as much recap as I'm getting into here.  The bravery that Luis showed in this one man performance was so great and captivating.  It was a raw experience and also conversational, fun and entertaining.

I have no idea how he did that.  He got on stage and bared his soul.  He's still grieving, but he actively shared his grieving with us.  It was remarkable because it wasn't acting at all.  It was pure sharing and exposure.

I like to write about things I have experienced or feel or have a close relationship to.  And some people have accused me of oversharing on my blogs (not on this one...yet).  But I can't imagine talking about how my Dad died with a group of strangers.  Especially when I'm still processing it.  It has been over a year and I'm still processing.  But I get the instinct because part of me wanted to start writing a play about it as it was happening.  For someone who writes to make sense of his world, this made a world of sense to me.

I love theatre when it's really alive.  When it follows that campfire storytelling tradition and when the writer/performer is telling you something he really thinks you need to know for continuing on the journey of life.  I have relatives like that who, when they are talking to you, are looking directly into your soul and giving you a tool for the arsenal.

I got to meet him after the show.  We're both Latino playwrights, but have never met.  My friend Kelly introduced us because she felt we should know each other.  And I'm glad she did.  He's from the same neck of the woods I'm from.  He knows my hometown very well.  It was just a good share.  Like in AA or Al-Anon.  "Good share, pal.  Good share."

I'm still thinking about it today because I was in awe of it.  It was so simple.  It was so pure.  It was the right amount of everything.  We put so many bells and whistles onto things because maybe we're scared of sharing.  Maybe we're scared that we won't be enough.  But it was a moment in that theatre where Luis was testifying that it was enough to share what had happened to him and how his father's death had an impact.  It wasn't manipulative at all.  That might have been the most impressive part of all.