Mitch Hedberg & his widow

For those of you who don't already know it, let me say it to you now: I adore (adored?) Mitch Hedberg. He died in March 2005 and I sincerely wept upon hearing the news--for several months there, I wasn't able to listen to his comedy CDs at all. It was just too unbearable.

Clearly my grief is nothing compared to that of those who knew him. I ain't claiming that in the least. But it is strange when someone whose words you've laughed at uproariously and memorized for their wit and humor is suddenly gone from the world. His wife Lynn Shawcroft was one of those left behind to mourn him, and just tonight I stumbled across her blog. I don't necessarily recommend it unless you're really curious about her as a comedienne or wondering what her life (or life as Mitch's widow) is like. In my few minutes of browsing, I did come across a few particularly candid entries dealing with her loss and grief--in these particular entries the writing was really bare and unflowery. It made me scared for the time when I will begin to lose those who are close to me because she tossed neither herself nor her readers the smallest morsel of comfort. If I knew her, perhaps I'd commend her on the bravery it took to put those words to paper (or screen, as it were). What does it say that she then posted them to the internet? I'm not sure.

In any case, now I'm thinking about love and loss and Mitch and what it must be like to lose your partner when you and he make your living as comedians. You must perform and make others laugh if you are to succeed in the business--but how do you do that when you're mourning? I suppose it's the quintessential question all actors face. Truly, it's probably what most people face whenever they're going through a period of loss. I would guess that most people struggle to maintain a somewhat normal facade to cover up what's going on behind the scenes.

Ramble, ramble, ramble.

The end.