When you’ve been doing something for 20 years, I’m sure you’ll get at least some deeper feeling out of doing it for the very last time. You might go looking for the things you’ll miss. Or you might get lost in thought as you repeat those same motions you’ve done a hundred, thousand times before, finding a renewed value in them.
I don’t care what the others say. The head rigger in fact, claimed “No one’s going to miss it.”
As I stood in the winter cold, watching the set pieces being loaded into containers for shipment back to Montreal, I did get some deeper feeling out of it. After 20 years, we were doing the load-out for the very last time, before the curtain fell for Alegria.
Does it ever feel like Christmas presents are just a way to cope with the loss? An attempt to compensate? Not often but at least once every year, I feel that way.
There’s a guy I know who recently told me that he’s never been in contact with death. Between army training (medical school), suicides of acquaintances and friends getting into accidents, I think I’m getting close to 15 instances where I was emotionally involved.
Still, I don’t know where this grief comes from. Christmas should be a time of warmth and closure (and mass consumption but let’s not go there), and I guess it would be typically me to at least consider the opposite of the spectrum, but why would I feel so strongly about it?
If all goes to plan, I’m crossing the Atlantic next year. I’m already saving up because I want to stick around there for a little while. The land of the free, you know? I want to be free.