Not the other way around.
I think everyone who ever met Fawna knows what I'm talking about. The woman was a force of nature, a spirit that that filled any room she entered, a person you were destined to remember.
Our lives crossed many time in the past four decades. I first met Fawna at Lagoon when we were both in high school. We worked in the entertainment department. In college Fawna married a fraternity brother. And, even though we were never in the same show together, she and I were part of the small theater community where you get to know everyone--sort of a "six degrees of separation" kind of thing.
You become a family because you share the stage, and all that that entails.
Each show becomes a chapter of your book of life. The experiences are unique, the long rehearsals (or seasons, when it came to Lagoon...), counting on each other for support--on and off stage--and feeling that incredibly conflicting love/hate relationship when a show ends, of relief of being done and sad you won't get to see your friends until the next show...if there's a next show.
And when you lose a family member, it's painful. There are no more shows, no more final rehearsals, no more show notes, no more mic checks, and the last show you did was truly the last show.
For those of us left behind, I don't think we'll ever be able to forget Fawna. I know I won't. It's like she won't allow it. When friends of her Music USA casts gather, they'll think of her, talk of her, laugh--then cry--as the memories wash over them. When casts from any of the countless shows since come together, they'll inevitably do the same. She had that effect on people.
As I get older, I suppose I've got to get used to losing friends to the inevitable...it's the way of it. To Jim, her family, children, and grandchildren, we mourn with you. She was definitely one of a kind.
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