Funereal

Last night, Rita and I went to see Corteo, the Cirque du Soleil show that is in town. This had started out as a solitary venture. It hadn't occured to me that anyone else would want to spend the money. And I had decided at the last minute to go. I was going to go see a matinee and then meet Rita for dinner. Instead, she said that she'd like to see the show. So we got last minute seats for the 5pm Sunday night show.

We almost didn't make it in time, and C du S is particularly stodgy about latecomers. They usually punish the tardy by making them wait until the opening/first act is over, which can be up to a 15 minute wait. So I was rushing, trying to take shortcuts, trying to avoid possible delays.

Without realizing it, the route I took was the same road through New Westminster on which my cousin died a couple of weekends ago in a motorcycle accident. It didn't occur to me until we were nearly at the scene of the accident. I didn't know my cousin. There was a rift in the family before we were born. So we grew up separately, even though we were only a few months apart.

I was looking forward to the show; I thought it would be uplifting. Which it was. But ironically, the theme of the show is a funeral: "A clown pictures his own funeral taking place in a carnival atmosphere, watched over by quietly caring angels". It is beautiful; it is strange; it is musical; it is athletic; it is frightening; it is joyous; it is sad; it is silly; it is surreal. It is transporting.

And it was very accurately skewered on The Simpsons.