It's been a few weeks since I wrapped up my time with the Eden Prairie Players Women's One Acts. I really love the people and the venue, and the variety of shows this year was entertaining. I started the rehearsal process fresh off the high of the silliness and fun of a comedic role in another show, and I have to say, I don't think I was fully prepared for the emotional drain the role of Simi would bring.
I have not buried a child, but I know friends who have. I haven't had to keep putting one foot in front of the other after that kind of loss, and I can only imagine how impossible it must feel. I've experienced different kinds of grief over my lifetime though. While I'm not grieving the loss of a baby, I have lost other parts of my life lately--some by choice and some not. I've looked for ways to heal and stay hopeful along the way, just like Simi did when she decided planting flowers would help her. And like Simi, who realizes the bloom of the violets will coincide with her late daughter's birthday, the things that give me hope sometimes come with an unexpected zing of pain.
Keeping that raw and honest sadness at the forefront of my mind helped me set my attitude and energy for Simi, but it also made me tired, and sometimes a little scared--like I could lose control and not be able to fully recover afterwards. My onstage partner was my dear friend, and he was 100% ready to explore that challenge with me. I'm grateful not only for our good chemistry, but also for the friendship we share that made it safe for me to lose it and smear my mascara on his shirt during each show!
After every single performance, I was approached by at least one person who thanked me for telling their story of grief and the child they had lost. I absolutely did not expect that, and it made me appreciate the gift of the role even more. I was touched that people would take the time to talk about it with me. I was grateful that audiences allowed themselves to feel our show. I was honored that they let themselves believe our tension and tears and sadness, and the moments of clinging to each other as the lights went down. Our director wrote in her notes about the playwright: "Her words reach into spaces that are sometimes locked away. Allie finds the key to those spaces and helps us remember."
The short story of Simi and Rhys and the death of their child didn't have a happy ending. The show ended with a snapshot of a couple who were only beginning to find their way through a painful chapter. The promise of flowers blooming in a garden and the memories of their "little potbelly stove" toddler helped me this spring as I continued to heal in other ways. Every show I've ever done has taught me something, and this one taught me that life--and even grief--isn't bitter, it's Simi-sweet.
