There is no goodbye like the goodbye at the end of a theatrical production. In the space of a few intense months, a group of strangers and acquaintances and friends comes together to create something moving and human. In the process, if things go right, you become a family. It’s hard to say goodbye to a family.
We gave our last performance of Much Ado About Nothing this past weekend. It has been hard to say goodbye. This has been a particularly fantastic cast and crew to work with, which makes the goodbyes all the harder.
I’m sure there are other fields of short, intense projects where bonds form quickly before the various participants go their separate ways. What makes theater truly unique is that we don’t only have to say goodbye to our fellow actors and crew – we have to say goodbye to our characters.
On Saturday night I shaved off the Guy Fawkes-ian facial hair that I’d grown out since February. Yesterday I wiped off all my temporary tattoos. This morning I got a haircut for the first time in months. I’m letting go of Borachio, a character I’ve come to know and love despite his villainy.
But that’s life. None of us ever stands still – life is a constant series of farewells and greetings. According to New Church theology, in our spirits we are constantly surrounded by the spiritual world, and every time we grow and change, we leave behind certain spirits and come into the company of others. It’s always hard to say goodbye, which is why even personal changes we want to make can feel difficult or unsettling. I’m reassured by two teachings: that the spiritual connections we make are never completely erased, and that with the souls we are closest to, we can live together to eternity.
In the meantime, there will be comings and goings, goodbyes and hellos. Right now, I’m feeling sad to say goodbye to my theater family. If and when several of us work together again it will be under different circumstances. But this is a hopeful thing too. I’m excited to see what new and beautiful thing we can create together in the future, whenever we do meet again.