February 28, 2009
I left him sitting in the stalls of the theatre (black, save for a few working lights) staring out onto the stage. He was wearing his empty smile; his default face for fixing mistakes and letting life wash over. We often joke that his soul is dark and heís earned every line on his forehead but itís not funny today. It was never funny. I recognise myself in him and his way of thinking. Earlier, the three of us sat in silence before we shared our stories. Stories of death, illness, separation, second chances and new beginnings. It was honest.