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Engelhardt |
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In Celebration of His Life |
 This is Ray Doherty as he appeared as Henry, the old actor, in a 2005 production of "The Fantasticks." It was one of his favorite roles. Recently his widow and the cast and crew planted a tree in his honor at Sequoia High School in Redwood City, CA, where Ray taught drama for years. Wife Joanne says, "One of his lines in the show was: 'Remember me in light,' which seems so appropriate now." |
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Earlier this year, columnist Joanne Engelhardt's husband, Ray Doherty, was diagnosed with cancer and died shortly thereafter. This is her account of the special memorial tribute that celebrated his life. |
By JOANNE ENGELHARDT
of TheColumnists.com
How do you describe a perfect day except to call it “perfect?” That’s what I called the Memorial Celebration we had for Ray, my husband.
After his way-too-quick bout with cancer (we--and he--only found out he had it three weeks before he died), I had asked him what he wanted. “A party--a month after I’m gone” was his precise answer.
So, when I began to plan what we were going to do, I selected a date that was just over a month from the date he passed away. Memorial Day, as it turned out. It was a perfect date because we asked for and received permission to use the 800-plus seat theatre at the high school where Ray taught drama for 37 years. (No students on campus on Memorial Day, which meant there was plenty of parking and we weren’t interfering with any school activities.)
What I didn’t expect was that a month gives people….lots of people….time to adjust plans, make plans, do whatever they needed to do to be there to show their love and respect for ‘Mr. D,’ as a lot of his students called him. One former student told me she flew in the morning of Ray’s Memorial Celebration, and flew back--to Hawaii--the next day.
How many of us can even imagine having that kind of affect on others? And this was more than 20 years after she graduated from high school! It was, to put it mildly, humbling to see the adulation and respect so many of his students had for their former drama teacher.
Ray wanted a party, a celebration, and that’s what he got. When I sat down with two theatre friends to plan it, I think they thought I was still a bit shell-shocked over his death. So they just said “OK” to everything I told them I wanted to do. Like:
* Dress up a mannequin in Ray’s beloved tux with lavender (the high school’s color) cummerbund, bow tie and handkerchief. Put “Ray” right on stage so he could be a part of the entire program.
(Uh, sure, Joanne. No problem, they said. And it got done.)
* Start off with “There’s No Business Like Show Business” or some such upbeat Broadway tune.
A very dear musician friend of Ray’s rounded up an astonishing 35-plus member orchestra, which not only played that wonderful tune mentioned above, but also a special musicians’ tribute to a fellow musician. Ray would have felt so honored.
* Structure
the entire program like a theatrical play:
Act 1: The Early Years and The Family Years; Act 2: The Sequoia
Years.
INTERMISSION
Act 3: Ray--The All-Around ‘Real Nice Guy’; Act 4:
Ray’s Theatre Life
Then: Curtain Calls
The funny thing was that everything came together. And not just together, but beautifully together. Personal friends, theatre friends, grade school and high school friends, his children and grandchildren--all wanted to be a part of Ray’s special day. Singers, actors and pianists performed, dear friends told stories (mostly humorous), all the while photos and video clips of Ray, his family and his many theatrical adventures were playing on a large screen. There was no end of people who wanted to take part.
As our friend Danny said, “Everybody has at least one Ray story to tell.”
By most counts there were between 500 and 600 people at Ray’s celebration. Some couldn’t sit through the whole program….some had other plans and left early, and yet there were hundreds still there when I spoke last. After presenting the first annual Ray Doherty Drama Scholarship, I said, “Over the years whenever I went to see Ray in rehearsal--or when I was in the same play he was doing--I’d watch his scenes and then on the way home I’d make suggestions about how he should try this or that….maybe be more angry or act more bewildered--suggestions that I thought were really excellent. Usually he’d just stare at me in disbelief and say, ‘Get your own show.’"
Well, sweetie, thanks to you, I think I did.
Then I said something that I’m trying very hard to live by because I know that’s what Ray would have wanted me to do. It’s not easy, but it’s the only way I know to stay sane. In his desk he had saved a piece of paper and had underlined this credo: “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”
That’s the way I’m going to remember our 25 years together.
©2007 by Joanne Engelhardt. The illustration is courtesy of the author. All rights reserved. This column first posted Aug. 20, 2007.
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