After the big Rosebud ceremony for student achievement, we slept, got up at 5am, piled in the van, picked up Morris "across town" [30 seconds away], and drove to the airport before the sunrise. After a little trouble getting Sebastian's wrapped gift of a Star Wars lightsaber through security, we were at our gate and soon on the plane with little TV's for each seat. The boys were thrilled.
I had a bit of a headache... which is what I am recognizing happens when I need to weep and have not released enough of my grief. I'm still struggling with Jeremy's passing. I don't like it one bit. Not one teeny tiny bit. Suddenly I have such a sense of loss and futility that this man we love is a few smithereens -- ashes. Some carried back in a box by his mother to be buried in Pennsylvania by his beloved grandma, and some to be scattered on sea by Chemainus where his children have such fond memories of him at the beach.
I have fond memories of the beach there too.
The ones with Jeremy at the beach are few, but I'll never forget the first time.
We egged him on to join us swimming down at Malcolm beach and he bravely went in the first few feet and stopped cold. Actually COLD. Poor small man with his t-shirt and shorts. His little white legs would go no further into that frigid sea. I felt bad later. I had no idea he got cold so easy. Granted, the sea WAS cold, but I had bought a scuba mask at a garage sale and had found a WHOLE empty moon snail shell at the bottom 8 feet down and dove for it, even though my face and ears burned with the cold that far down. Sigh. That was day two in Chemainus for us, and one of the first distinguishing circumstances between Jeremy and I.
When it came to day three, there was another situation I'll never forget. Jeremy had us interns take four hour shifts in maintenance and dish pit help in the kitchen, and it was my turn. I worked and worked, alone, in the steam and grime, burning my fingers with hot water, only to slink out like a limp rag after to the loading bay and sit on a step in the sun.... until Jeremy came out. He took pity on me. I felt so weak that I couldn't do that work for so long without wilting. I just wanted to act. Jeremy changed our shifts after that: no dish pit, and all the interns shared the bathroom cleaning in less time!
Jeremy would always take time to talk and listen when I ventured into his office. I felt truly cared about.
Back in Vancouver Monday morning, as Morris was walking our family to his favorite breakfast place, I spotted a beautiful leaf: all red with touches of green. Just like many I used to collect my first fall in Chemainus years ago. I had pressed them, and made them into a garland. Jeremy saw this, and after a visit to his beloved Grandma, brought a leaf back for me from Pennsylvania. Wow. I hadn't remembered that until I picked up that leaf in Vancouver on the day of his funeral.
After a great breakfast, we drove down the Vancouver Art Gallery (where they filmed "Night at the Museum") and the boys played on the steps as we waited for Jeremy's son, Sebastian to join us. Mark and Erin DuMez showed up and we chatted over coffee. It was good to see Mark and Morris connect too, as heads of theatres. (Mark took Jeremy's role as AD for Chemainus over a year ago.)
Finally Sebastian came (thanks to Steven Greenfield for picking him up) and he loved the saber. The boys play, play, played and I got a few shots. I tried to get one of Dave and Morris AND the top of Hotel Vancouver, but the picture didn't quite capture all that I saw in the screen and it's off kilter. Oh well. We were just thrilled the sun came out and to hear the boys playing. Such a healthy sound in the wake of such loss. I didn't know what we would say to Sebastian, but it didn't matter. As Morris negotiated thick downtown traffic and firetrucks, the boys were in the back of our rental van talking NON STOP. Once at the church, they played a bit more outside, then it was time to go in.
SO MANY loved faces from Chemainus, Vancouver, all over. I was so surprised... I knew almost EVERYONE there. So many actors, and theatre professionals who had been touched by Jeremy. Wow. The music was stunning, the speakers were apt, articulate, funny and poignant. And we were all there together sharing in this loss. Poor Anita. She was strong and lovely. But I still cry over her pain. I don't like it one bit.
My good friend Lisa was there and I found her at the back 3/4 way in to the service after I HAD to remove Weston who was so restless and cranky from all the stress and missing his lunch, he just couldn't STAND IT anymore. At first I was furious I had to take him out, but then I grew softer. Once I found Lisa and pulled her away to this beautiful side room with tons of light with Weston rolling along the floor, I was actually grateful to be there with them instead of listening to a sermon.
Many hugs and well wishes after the service. The family slipped out (which we were told would happen) and all the old friends lingered and hugged and caught up a bit. Wonderful.
Finally we went out to dinner with Lisa in our van and met up with Pacific Theatre greats Ron and Carol Reed, Deb Sears and Jonathan Bruce. The table was long so it was a bit hard to converse, but wow, my boys ate SO WELL because they were starving! Ha. Poor things. I don't think either of them left anything on their plates.
It was good to connect with my old theatre professor Ron. He put Jeremy on to us after grad school in Illinois and initiated that connection for us to come to Canada. Sigh. I was very encouraged. It was a huge day of reconnecting, albeit briefly. There was a solidarity in that church of courageous theatre souls. If anything, Jeremy's life spurs us to keep on keeping on.
On the flight home I got to sit beside one of my favorite people: Morris Ertman. While the men in my family plugged in to those little tv boxes with their ear pods, Morris and I talked just barely over the hum of the jet about life and struggle and longing and hope. I love that.
The drive home was not eventful, which was perfect for little boys sleeping with their mouths slightly open in their car seats. I even got a bit of rest in the back listening to the low tones of Morris and Dave up front.
We fell into bed, slept, and slept a bit more the next morning.
OVER AND BACK. I crossed the mountains. Lived in Vancouver for a day. Breathed moist, low altitude air -- filling my thirsty lungs-- Then I returned to the Alberta prairies.
It still blows my mind.
I wonder how we will travel in the BIG LIFE.
Huh.
Thanks Lord, that we got to go, and that it was so smooth.
I know we're still recovering on many levels, but I'm so, so grateful.
I will try and let him go.
Please help me to understand.
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