Written and Directed by Kirin Saeed and Charlie Houston

It is no secret that Westernised cultures (primarily the UK and US) struggle with the concept of the inevitable: death. They may meet the reaper without fear, but for those left behind, the process of grief can be one of isolation and pain when it needn’t be. Award-winning VICS (Visually Impaired Creators Scotland), who work on their own projects and others, encourage and promote visually impaired artists, stage a Sense of Loss, putting the “fun” in “funeral”, and making sure that the subject of death is an open discussion for all however they choose to process it. 

A remarkably personal and intimate piece for writer, performer and director Kirin Saeed and many in the audience who may not openly speak it, Sense of Loss is a process and dramatisation of Saeed’s attempts at working through the passing of their husband. Now, hosting the annual Christmas party with her closest friends, Saeed tells them about her intentions for a podcast of lessons she wished she had been privy to during the final months of palliative care and the eventual passing of her husband. Expect party games, vino, tacky decorations, and a heartfelt and well-constructed show that laces humour through genuine snippets of advice and personal stories. 

Brief interludes separate the ‘stages’ of this podcast, Saeed’s variation of the more often coined ‘DABDA’ as they process their experiences of loss. Chiefly comedic adverts which then lead into conversations with Saeed, nurses, and her husband, the advertising sequences offer a break from the live performance onstage and demonstrate the cast’s exceptional abilities with timing and humour (along with a more confident delivery). It’s also where Houston’s technical elements are most prominent, all edited and designed tightly and without over-extending or hanging around, paced to perfection.

And that’s true for the show itself, clocking in at roughly the sixty-minute mark. Impressive, given it balances a dual narrative of the live Christmas party scenes performed in front of us and the pre-recorded podcast elements. Only occasionally do scenes run a touch over the comfort mark, heightened with a lost minute or so, but everything has purpose and place. Especially the musical elements, as primarily self-taught Kellie Dingwall, showcases more than their firm grasp of comedic timing, but some beautifully clear vocals and dab-hand with the ukulele. They’re at their best when sharpening their wits against the blunter and steelier Neil Skeene, who equally relishes delivering a well-cut line or three. Completing the cast is Anna Sophie Lübeck, who also brings touching and precise vocals to the production: matching an empathetic performance with the more bubbly Saeed, or sardonic Dingwall. 

As the party begins to wrap up and the emotions reach a peak, Sense of Loss takes a more sobering tone as it makes its way into the closing moments. The revelations of the voices we’ve been hearing and the weight now instilled in the beautiful vocals we here, weigh into the audience with a warming, yet sobering punch. It isn’t entirely without pain, but it’s the clearest and most directly connected we feel with Saeed, whose performance is at its strongest – not with the comedy and light-hearted antics seen throughout, but with the frankness and alignment of experience and performance. 

Many shows make you want to call someone up and tell them all about it; Sense of Loss makes you call someone just to see how they are. Intimate, far funnier than anyone may have initially thought, and performed by a dedicated and talented group with a firm dedication to their craft, Sense of Loss (and VICS) promotes creatives with a cannier sense of sight into the world than many and channels it into a tightly constructed piece of theatre which holds open the door out of grief – aiding those struggling to find their way forward. 

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