Michael Rosen’s Getting Through It is a two-part show formed of two stories: The Death of Eddie and Many Kinds of Love. In the first of these, he takes us through the day his son Eddie died in 1999, the moments that followed, the funeral, life after the funeral, and the ongoing present. The second is an account of his 40 days spent in intensive care when he contracted Covid-19 in the early pandemic, a collage of his own descriptions and ‘diary entries’ by hospital staff covering periods of time he is unable to remember.
The show is a masterclass in storytelling — written and performed with such precision and care that the audience hangs on every word. You instantly feel as though you are in the hands of a professional: an experienced writer and an experienced griever. Approaching such immense topics, Rosen is at ease — assured, composed, completely in control. He walks onto the vast stage of the Old Vic, sits at a small chair and table placed at its centre, and holds our attention there for the entire duration of the performance. He needs nothing more than his voice and his words.
In the first story, death seems to happen in a flash. One moment, Eddie is a vibrant young man; the next, we hear the zip of the body bag, and his life is over — or rather, his death happens. Rosen draws a clear distinction that runs through the piece: “Death is biology. Grief is mind.” Together, those two ideas define the experience of loss — the first a medical process, the second a state of being.
He opens with unflinching, clinical detail: the red stripes beneath his son’s armpit where the skin has started to deteriorate, the thin red liquid that seeps from his mouth. The description is matter-of-fact, almost detached, reflecting the numbness of a parent trying to take in the impossible. From there, the mental process of grief unfolds as something continuous, elusive, and ever-shifting. Watching a woman who also lost her child cry at her daughter’s grave, Rosen realises we only ever witness grief in fragments, not in the long, quiet years that follow.
For all its darkness, The Death of Edie is not a heavy story. Rosen brings warmth and humour to the stage; there are moments of laughter and joy throughout. He speaks of Eddie as full of life — a great hockey player, funny, kind, surrounded by people who loved him. He emphasises his physical strength and impressive size, resurrecting his son’s energy and making the audience feel joyful and relaxed, perhaps as Eddie once made him feel.
He connects Eddie to the present wherever possible, recalling that his son once worked in a theatre like this one, ushering audiences just as young staff do tonight. We all passed by that moment on the way in as unremarkable, but now it is charged. The connection between performer, place, and memory becomes palpable — the theatre feels momentarily inhabited by Eddie’s spirit.
The second story, Many Kinds of Love, shifts focus from loss to survival. It explores and magnifies the moment that seemed to pass so quickly and quietly in The Death of Eddie: the dying. In the ‘liminal space’ of the hospital, Rosen confronts the same biological battle with microbes that claimed his son’s life. Once again, we hear startling medical detail — his blood oxygen levels dropping to a life-threatening 58. Yet when recounting his own illness, Rosen is more animated; this time, he is the fighter. His wit becomes a weapon, humour wielded against the pull of death, bolstered by acts of kindness and dedication from medical staff. The optimism that underpins this story reveals a different kind of getting through it — one rooted in endurance, connection, and gratitude. Rosen recognises that recovery, like loss, is more than physical. It depends on levity, on care, on the steady presence of others who hold you up when your own strength falters.
Leaving a show about death, one might expect to feel heavy and sorrowful. Instead, you feel something gentler — a kind of clarity. Rosen transforms personal grief and near-death experience into shared reflection on how life and death intersect and co-exist. Getting Through It is not about moving on, but moving with.
Written by Micheal Rosen
Published with The Reviews Hub
Reposted by Micheal Rosen on X
Rosie Wood 
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