Perhaps I was too young to understand, my life experience too small to comprehend the meaning behind your words.
After the play, you waited outside in the lobby. I did nod at you in acknowledgement, but quickly glanced away from your hopeful gaze. I could not hide my discomfort.
I know more now. Having been with one for some time now, I grasp somewhat what loss can be.
That day I did not understand what you were trying to say. But I remember your words, the unspoken questions in your eyes.
And often, dear playwright, I think of you.