The other day I was "on set" playing a mother to a young man of about 19 years.... perhaps he was a few years younger or older....I have never been able to tell the age of a man. We were seated in a theatre ......the scene was a highschool play in a highschool auditorium and the place was filled with mostly noisy, often obnoxious and almost universally bored young people.....it wasn't pleasant.
We'd been paired up because of our physical similarities..... tall, fair haired, fine boned .... it was a good call on the A.D.'s part......but as we were surrounded by 200 sweetly nubile (great old fashioned word) females of every variety and shape I didn't expect more than a polite hello and goodbye.....
Where am I going with this?????
Life is so odd..... my Dad always used to say that truth was stranger than fiction.... and it is. I enjoy the social aspect of film work....it gets me out of the studio.....so I am always pleased to have a chat with a pleasant neighbour rather than read my book.....but I was surprised at how quietly eager my "son" was to talk with me......Was I married?.... Did I have children?..... delicate and sensitive questions for a woman of my age, but proof of "my son's" innocence....
Between each bout of questions he would put his head down......in contemplation?....in exhaustion?....... "Would it be a long night?" he asked......."Was there a blue night bus on Dufferin?"
I wondered if he was worried about getting home, assured him that we'd be done before the subway closed down.... then he looked at me...but with eyes so full of loss and disquiet.... "It's just that I have a funeral in the morning.....really early....."
This gentle young man's aunt had committed suicide wednesday morning.....and he didn't understand......How does one respond to this?????.......I followed the script and played his mother.........earning my paultry pennies from heaven....trying to soften the burden of an unquiet soul......
The story was so sad.......The woman had been hit by a bus months ago.....but had recieved no compensation..... and suffered from unbearable and chronic pain ...... she was staying with her mother. The boys father was also living with mother and heard his sister get up during the small hours of the morning......thinking she was letting the dog out onto the balconey he went back to sleep....only to be awakened by the police a few hours later......the balconey was on the 17th floor.... she had jumped to ease the pain.....
I talked about pain and how life can become too difficult to bear.....How such decisions usually come only after long and careful thought........ That it was a decision that was her's to make..... That funerals are a way of clarifying the reality of death for those who are left behind......... I pulled out all the stops for my child....... and as strangers in a strange land, we passed a quiet moment contemplating lifes game of chance....
"My grandfather died in the spring," he sighed at last....."This will be my second funeral......."
