CPT’s ‘I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes’ is a Poignant Picture of Grief

How do you cope with grief?

Do you reminisce with friends and family over ridiculous, funny and sometimes embarrassing moments from the past? Do you dance and sing tearfully to songs that remind you of the one you’ve lost? Maybe you prefer to cry alone? Or perhaps you find comfort in the memories evoked by the material belongings someone left behind?

If you’ve lost a loved one, you’ve likely done one, if not all, of the above–Amy Schwabauer certainly has. In grieving the death of her sister, Schwabauer danced, sang, laughed, sobbed, and reminisced. She also crafted a gut-wrenchingly raw and heartfelt one-woman show called “I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes” about the experience.

After a string of sold-out performances at the 2024 BorderLight Theatre Festival, “I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes” is receiving its first fully-realized production and a three-week run at Cleveland Public Theatre (CPT) this December.

Staged in CPT’s James Levin Theatre, a sizable black box space, Schwabauer is surrounded on three sides by audience members as she shares a deeply personal story of grief for just over an hour. This autobiographical dark comedy about the loss of a sibling is both written and performed by Schwabauer and is under the direction of Ray Caspio.

As might be evident from the cheeky title, “I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes” is not only a story of loss, but one of love and humor. This co-mingling of complex feelings is immediately on display when audiences enter the James Levin Theatre. Catchy pop music plays in the background as you take your seat. It’s accompanied by colorful flashes of pulsing light by designer TL Codella.

Were you to draw conclusions from that description alone, you’d expect an upbeat, fun production. However, Kathalina Plummer Thorpe’s set design will upend that illusion almost immediately. Hung from the ceiling are multi-colored, wispy cloths that drape over a cluttered space. A hodgepodge of items litter a couch, staircase, clothes rack and the floor. The set accurately emulates what it looks like when you prepare to move or decide to do a bit of spring cleaning: chaos incarnate.

For any neat-freaks out there who are already squirming reading this, I’m sorry to say that it only gets worse throughout the show. This chaos doesn’t originate from an ordinary move or decluttering binge; this pandemonium is born from the necessity of sorting through a loved one’s things after they’ve died. And it’s messy.

After Amy Schwabauer’s sister, Candice–whom she calls Candy–dies, Amy is left picking up the pieces. This doesn’t just refer to the house full of items that Amy must sort though but also the pieces of Amy that have shattered with Candy’s passing.

Amy speaks directly to the audience as she attempts to sort through her sister’s belongings, like vintage toys, bins of designer purses, makeup and lots and lots of clothes. In around 70 minutes, Amy tells us about Candy’s life, sickness and death, cycling through different stages of grief along the way. She works through denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance–and not necessarily in that order, because grief is never that simple.

One minute, you might be sobbing over how much you miss someone, the next, you might be calling them a bitch and cursing them for how they failed to take care of themselves in those last days of their life. You could fawn over the new bag you’ve inherited, then complain about why someone accumulated so many things, including four identical dish strainers. The next minute, you might finally work up the courage to unbag your loved one’s cremated remains, then you’re doing a weird half-cry, half-dance as you hug the box with their ashes to your chest.

Experiencing the aforementioned scenes during “I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes” is a harrowing, tear-jerking experience, but Schwabauer ensures that it is also a humorous one.

Schwabauer is one of three sisters, and she proclaims herself as “the funny one.” If this show is anything to judge by, it’s an accurate description. She infuses the show with enough witty humor–albeit dark–to juggle tears with laughs. Schwabauer is also mesmerizingly physical, whirling about the stage as she dumps out boxes, mimes interactions with her family, dons skirts, and layers blouses upon blouses before tearing them off and casting them aside. The humor and physicality don’t just help lighten what would otherwise be a devastatingly heavy show, but also help make discussing death more accessible.

“I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes” brings to life an immediate, raw picture of what it means to love someone during their life and after their death. Schwabauer’s vulnerability and honesty is as brave as it is impactful; for, no matter how you choose to cope with grief, you will walk away from this show knowing that you are not alone.

“I Wear My Dead Sister’s Clothes” runs through December 20 at Cleveland Public Theatre, 6415 Detroit Avenue, Cleveland. Visit cptonline.org or call 216.631.2727 ext. 501 for tickets, “Choose What You Pay” pricing.

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