I know Jim's spirit is hanging out at the theater. The incident on Opening Night of "The Oldest Profession" made that obvious to several people.
...and then, there's that smell...
But, some days, I think I'm getting a whiff of his depression, as well.
It happened on Sunday, right before the matinee. For some reason, we touched on the subject of "lingering," while we were spackling backstage. Suddenly, a wave of despair rolled over me, and I said that, if I had some disease that would cause me to "linger,"...well...I still have a gun.
I was appalled as soon as the words came out of my mouth, and I scared Susan, which wasn't nice.
It wasn't till later that I realized that I was feeling what Jim must have felt.
Before Jim killed himself, suicide was never really an option for me. I could discuss it in theory, as being preferable to "lingering," but that theory is a far cry from the reality of loving a person who chose that way out.
The door is open. It's there. It's a possibility.
I have been a "glass half full" sort of person; always thinking that, no matter how bad it is, it will get better.
Now, I'm not so sure.
The question is, how much of this feeling is mine, and how much is Jim's? The depression came up from nowhere, in an instant, as I was putting on makeup in the green room.
It's a little scary.