Remembering Cal & Glynn
Grief is a deeply personal thing and different for everyone, but it is also a thing we process together.
The second weekend in October marked two years since we lost Cal Wilson. It is impossible to absorb that it has been this long, or that she has gone at all.
Just 56 years old, beloved on both sides of the Tasman as a comedian, improviser, writer, radio and television host, Cal died suddenly in October 2023. I still can’t write that without crying.
Cal and I started out in comedy together in the 1990s. There is a photo I love of Jeremy and me taken at Cal’s house twenty-six years ago – a candid snap in the sense that we didn’t know Cal was taking it, and yet artfully framed, perfectly timed, capturing the beginning of this relationship. As well as her wordsmithing gifts, Cal was a brilliant visual artist.
She was also endlessly kind. That photo was taken on her camera, and this is years before airdropping or sharing on your socials. Cal took the film to the shop, made prints and gifted them to me in an envelope. Thoughtful, generous and typical of Cal.
And she gathered generous friends around her. On my recent trip to Melbourne, where Cal had made her home, her friends Kelli and Claire passed on keepsakes from Cal’s things for Justine Smith and me.
This was inordinately thoughtful and made me weep in the greenroom of the comedy club where Claire and I were performing that night. That and noticing they have “WWCD” painted above the door as a reminder – “What Would Cal Do” – to take your most fun and generous self out on stage.
My keepsake is a faux-bronze statue of a naked woman looking over her shoulder, and I honestly can’t tell you if Cal and I had looked at it together once and laughed at the lady either checking out her own bum or possibly saying Cal’s signature, “Chase me!”, or if I am imagining this conversation. Cal remains so real and present, we still talk.
And then on this recent weekend that marks two years since Cal died, we lost another member of our comedy family. Glynn was the beloved husband of comedian Kehau Jackson, the love of her life and her greatest cheerleader.
I met them both in 2007 at the Adelaide Fringe Festival when we’d worked on a fabulous show called “Titters”.
Kehau had come relatively late to comedy, and Glynn was one of those remarkable men who encouraged his hilarious wife to get on stage and find her light. Big bearded Glynn came to shows, brought his mates, felt comfortable surrounded by comedians, and gazed at his tiny, funny wife with adoring eyes.
Kehau is the comic, but Glynn was also a great storyteller and took us all with him over these past weeks in and out of the Adelaide Royal Hospital – health updates punctuated by inspirational quotes, footy reports, hilarious memes and photos from their walks with their dog, Lucy.
And then on Sunday night, suddenly Glynn left us.
Cal once told us, “I’ve never left things unsaid. I think it’s so important that everybody knows how you feel about them. I never want any of the people I love to be in any doubt how much they matter to me.”
Again, we encircle, embrace our friend Kehau and each other, and think of things we can do from up close and afar, and tell each other we are loved.