Posted October 2
September 20, 2022. Gatineau. I leave the stage. I head to my dressing room to get changed, pack my bag and get ready to meet my audience. The one I cherish and esteem. The one who forgives my missteps and acclaims my good moves. The one who tries to understand my failings and admires my difference. The one who stuck with me when others said I had done wrong. That I had talked too much. Been too happy. Intense.
Leaving my dressing room, I remember that I have to meet Lise, Guy Lafleur’s sister. She had contacted me the day after my visit to Everybody talks about ittwo years ago, to tell me that she and her family had loved the chemistry I had had with Guy and that the Lafleurs had bought 10 tickets to come see me perform in Gatineau.
That evening in February 2020, however, on returning home after the broadcast of the show, I remember being flabbergasted by the violence of certain people towards me on social networks.
On the air, I had just launched “my tabarnak” to Guy Lafleur, after a tease on his part. The two of us then looked at each other. Then our heads had moved back slightly to let out the sound of fat, honest laughter. One who does good. Which gives me a stomach ache.
On returning home, I felt blessed by this gracious man. This man adored by entire generations. We had this unique moment, public, to us, but to all. People had witnessed our complicity. No photo, no autograph could have matched this moment.
I was not the greatest fan by Guy Lafleur, but like many people, I liked him. There, I was under the spell of this legendary man. I had had this majestic, almost enjoyable moment with him.
I never understood the hours that followed. The frustration of some, the anger of others. I had, according to many, disrespected the legend. And yet, our giggles testified to something else. My joy and my euphoria had turned into questioning, sadness, great anxiety.
And yet, I had had the blessing of his sister who was excited to prolong this new relationship between her brother and me, the time of a show.
We are back on September 20. I arrive in the theater, I cross the hallway that leads me to Lise and her daughter. The two beautiful women welcome me like family. A hug. A kiss. A bright look. The last time we spoke, Lise told me that unfortunately the family could not come to the show. Guy had had his diagnosis. He was too sick and frail to move in a crowd. I had been optimistic. I thought it was temporary. That the Lafleurs would come back another time.
Guy already looked fragile during our meeting on TV. I had no idea that my first meeting with him would be the last. To have known. I don’t know what more I would have done, but I wouldn’t have shied away from my joy reading everything people could say about me.
Lise hands me an envelope.
“Guy left you a little present. »
My heart debates.
It is a photograph of our moment. The one who pissed people off. The one who allowed me a contact, a real one, with the legend.
He loved meeting you. He didn’t know he was sick when he autographed the photo. I think he liked your levity with him.
Lise Lafleur, sister of Guy Lafleur
On the photo, a sentence: “For Mariana, with friendship, Guy Lafleur. »
Thanks, Lisa.
I don’t know what Guy is doing right now, but if I was with him, I’d give him a thumbs up and laugh out loud.
Thank you, my tabarnak.
I like you.
Rest in peace.