THE donna donna SHOW
THE donna donna SHOW
Sometimes, life is a painful mystery. Sometimes life is a joyous mystery. My friend Donna holds my hand throughout these revelations.
I was at home, writing, when suddenly I knew I had to leave quickly. I ran down the thirteen stories from my apartment, down Harwood, and up the hill on Thurlow toward Davie Street. There was my friend Donna walking down the street, towards me, without seeing me. I kept running, I had been running towards her without knowing why. Her mom was dying, and I could see the wave of grief as it crushed through Donna. She was crumpling towards the ground in sudden sobs, and because I was running directly towards her, I caught her before she hit the ground.
When my mom was dying, Donna knew just what to say to me, she knew how to help and guide me through the terrible transition. My mom was so scared. Then she started feeling the interconnectedness of all things, then she was starting to accept her death. Then she felt her dad’s hand holding hers, telling her it would be okay. She told me she would come to hold my hand at my time.
And here we are. Donna + Donna. For now. Holding hands. And mostly laughing.