I am a funny person.
I like to be a funny person, and enjoy the fact that I am know for being a funny person.
I also write sad songs.
It can be a little confusing to some, how a girl like me can be funny yet at the same time write songs that reach the depths of our hearts and tug at our deepest emotions, sometimes ranging into the extent of sorrow (although sorrow is term I usually use for comedy's sake - it's a funny word to say - it seemed to fit well here).
Well, blame it on my youth, I guess. I grew up in a funny household. Laughter was a way of life, and the goal was to always be ready to come up with a quip or a dry comment to try to make the rest of the clan of Walkers laugh. I could go on by telling stories, but I'd be here forever and would probably pee my pants at some point. I promise though that one of these days I will set out to write a post strictly about some of the funnier moments in my life (and trust me, there are many).
Tonight, however, I am writing this post by candle light, after seeing a show that has rendered me speechless yet has set off a thousand thoughts in my head.
Tonight I was invited to the opening night of Pig Girl, put on by the Theatre Network at The Roxy. It was the world premiere by the amazing Canadian playwright Colleen Murphy. The story centres around a young woman who is being held against her will by a deranged pig farmer, and her sister's struggle with local police to find her. There are many similarities towards recent events (recent meaning in the last 20 years, but maybe I am a little behind the times) within Vancouver's East Hastings community, but what happened in the play can be felt anywhere.
The idea of seeing this show made me very nervous, in a way I hadn't felt nervous before. You see, although I am no stranger to being involved in theatre, this show meant something different to me. About five years ago, I was talking to my father on the phone at work. I had been working at an insurance company (and if anyone knows me they can quickly realize I am not the type to be working at such a place). I often called my father while I was at work, if only to make the day go by a little faster. We had gotten on the subject of my mother's side of the family (she has 9 siblings) and what they were all up to. Gloria was an Aunt that I had never known, but always knew about her - even if the information was hard to come by. At this point I had understood that she was living in Victoria, and had informed everyone that she wanted no contact with her family. That was not exactly how things had panned out, but my parents didn't want to tell me what they really knew.
Last time she was in contact with my family, Gloria was not living in Victoria, but living in Vancouver's notorious East side. She had been battling addiction and ended up there, which is the case for many people. Because of her lifestyle, she had gone missing before, for days here and there. But she was always able to contact her mother (my Grandmother) at some point to check in. The last time she did so was sometime in February 1993.
I wasn't very old in 1993, and in no way did I know about the situation with Gloria. I don't think anyone really did, to be honest. And if they did, they didn't say a word about it.
It's interesting how we cope with loss. The loss of someone without a trace is a kind of loss that you can never prepare for. I never met my aunt, but her memory is still with us. It has been passed down to me from my parents. She was a bridesmaid at my parent's wedding. She held me when I was born. She is a daughter, a friend, an aunt, a sister. She is so many things, but she is also missing. She may always be missing. She may never be alive, nor dead, nor happy, nor at peace. And neither will we. It's a cloud that hangs in the air which some family members talk about and others avoid. There is no right or wrong way to handle this looming cloud of her being missing for it may always be there.
Although this is something that is not easily brought up, I have to talk about this. This idea of addiction and sex trade workers and what is so easily swept under the rug in our society. Maybe it's easier for me to talk about it as I do not remember Gloria, which in a way makes me feel like I should take on this task of talking about the things that are hard to talk about with people that may not have had to experience it first, second or third hand. These things are necessary to discuss and to learn about because they are happening in our world, in our cities, and in our neighbourhoods all the time. And when we stop ourselves from talking about them we stop ourselves from going forward and helping those that need it. I know that no matter where Gloria is, she would want us to talk about these issues.
I feel my Aunt Gloria with me at times, and not just in terms of the looming cloud I speak of. I have written a song about her (which is also an homage to many of the women that have gone missing from Vancouver's east side) and there have been times when I've performed it where strange things have happened (a painting fell off the wall once at a cafe I was performing at, there have been a few times when an electrical issue has come up during the song). I felt her with me tonight at the show too. Pig Girl can be graphic at times, yet it is compelling enough to keep watching no matter what is going on. About two-thirds of the way through the story I had been holding back tears to the point where I thought I would pass out from exhaustion when suddenly my mind shifted slightly and I thought of Gloria. In that moment I completely relaxed, to the point where I was worried I wasn't even in my body anymore. I cannot explain completely what I felt, but it was something deep and something strong. I felt okay. And safe. Because I was being told that she was okay. It was actually very beautiful and felt in many ways, serene.
Once the show was over, I wept like I hadn't wept in a very long time. The content is so true to what happened and what continues to happen each day in this country. Women go missing. Authorities do not show the compassion to help make a change. Families wear themselves out trying desperately to find loved ones. It is thought-provoking and told in a way that will make you want to search for answers in ways you didn't think you would or could. The performances are extremely intense and subtle at the same time, forcing you to feel conflicting emotions towards each character at some point. This play is not for the faint of heart, but we are all strong. We need to be.
I may never know about my Aunt's whereabouts. I may never know if she is alive or dead. I may never know how she died, where she was, who she was with, or what led her to where she is or was. Many people speculate she was one of the victims of Mr. Pickton. Her name has been mentioned in the Globe and Mail, on CBC, and on various missing persons websites from across North America. I have come to accept the fact that we do not know and we may never know what happened to Gloria. But we can love those around us and look out for one another. We can learn about how our society has made mistakes and change the way we look at others. Most importantly, we can make sure that every person on this earth is treated with the respect and dignity that every single person deserves.
Until next time I feel fueled by emotion to an out of this world extent,
The girl who is trying to love with all her heart.
*For more information on Pig Girl which is playing at The Roxy theatre in Edmonton until November 24th, please click here.
**If you would like to hear the song I have written for my Aunt which is entitled Our Glory please click here.
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