Glad You’re Gone

Photo on 2013-11-30 at 1.08 AM #6What an immense day, and beautiful, as always, because that is how I choose to see it.


This week, a former flame was in our audience. I hadn’t seen him since a very abrupt and painful breakup over a betrayal about a year and a half ago. He is a magnificent lover and a great mind and wrote beautifully. Seeing him brought back a flood of feelings. I sort of wanted to hug him and kick him and make love to him and mostly, I just wanted to fall asleep. It was too much. So, yes, indeed, I just left after the show without saying hello and went to bed.


But I thought, “He’s flown all the way to Vancouver to see you, at least have coffee with him in the morning and maybe have some closure.” So I did. He made it clear he had no idea I was in the cast. He came for other reasons and was “pleasantly surprised” to see me. What an idiot I am. Thinking I might be important in any way. Just as well. I don’t need to be important to someone like that.


We do catch up, all niceties, and then I drive him to the airport. He forgets his bag in my car and misses his flight because I drive all the way home not realizing: my phone off. I arrive home to his frantic messages and drive all the way back to the airport to give it to him. I am worn and ambivalent until Cold Play sings into my ear:


“Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry, you don’t know how lovely you are. I had to find you. Tell you I need you. Tell you I set you apart. Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions, oh let’s go back to the start.”

Imagine someone ever saying that to me? I can’t.

And I remember that I had agreed to let sorrow have its way with me.


So on that long ride up Granville and over the bridge I allow myself to remember long fingers and runner’s legs and erotic lullabies. I recite the words of love and I recall the “unsaid”. I laugh at old jokes and I miss the witty lines. I choose to believe when he had his hand on my hip and looked into my eyes he really did see me as lovely. And in his way, he tried to be true to what he believed in. Sometimes.


I hold out his bag and he takes it. Then we embrace each other tightly, several minutes over the two minute drop off parking area time line.


What traffic control officer is going to break up two  people stifling back sobs in one of those airport embraces?


I miss you, Campers. And I am so very very glad you are gone.





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  1. norma

    lucia. a sad and taxing story. i have similar questions and sorrows. don’t expect anyone to sing those things to me either. but you are wise to let sorrow have its way. and to cry with the old flame. we have to find our way through, dear, vulnerable beans that we are. i’m reaching out my hand to yours, from rosebud to vancouver. let’s hold on to each other for a minute, and feel understood. you are lovely.

  2. Leah

    the timing of reading this couldn’t be more perfect. this morning just my “novel” which is actually a memoir. so many feelings are so close to the surface, but it was so good to wade through them. when i decide to me the write a novel in a month challenge be the impetus to finally write my memoirs and see what is there (what i can mine for other things?) i had no idea it would be so hard, or where it would take me. eons ago when i took your playwriting class i came up with a scene that i thought would be the basis of my one act. i don’t know if you remember it, it was the one i called “Happy Birthday” – anyway, i wanted to let you know, i think i am finally ready o to write that play…

    1. Lucia Frangione

      wonderful, so proud of you for writing that novel, Leah. A big congratulations! And I’m excited to hear about the play up coming! xo

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