We had our final show on Sunday and a get together after that went into the evening. I got home after 1 AM and I felt it Monday morning.

A day later, there’s still a sense of sadness, of loss, floating around me.

A few minutes before we went on stage, I had a moment where I realized part of what makes live theatre so special. What you experience as a cast, creating art together, is a unique experience that, by its nature, can’t be reproduced.

That group of people, the place, the time, the story we’re telling, the audience. You might have a similar experience, and never the same.

My final scene, singing No More, was my best ever. I performed it well, technically, hitting the pacing and notes I wanted. Much more, though, was how I felt. I felt the character, hearing his son express grief at a father he’d never known, and his response, feeling the pain and yet offering the best he believed he had in his appeal to run away.

I sang with tears in my eyes and ended strong, hitting the harmony we’d been working on and reaching out, grasping my scene partner’s shoulder just before walking off.

Backstage, the emotions of the scene began to wash off and were soon replaced by the emotions of the experience as a whole as we moved towards the final songs. By the time we got to No One Is Alone, most of us backstage had tears in our eyes.

What an experience. A cast member after shared the quote, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” While easier said than done, it well represents my conclusion. And while this particular experience will be no more, I’ll be forever impacted by what I had the privilege of experiencing.