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July 24, 2008
Because He Knows Me Better Than I Know Myself
Conversation with my husband:
Dave: So, how was your day?
Sally: Well, it started out horribly...
Dave: Yeah.
Sally: I've been crying off and on all day.
Dave: I figured you would when I read about it. I think you should go.
Sally: I don't know. I mean, I was thinking about talking to Richard about creating a scholarship fund, a theatre scholarship, in his name, and using the money I'd spend to get there on a donation. I mean, he's a BSU alum too.
Dave: But you should go. It's not like you don't have other reasons to be in town.
Sally: It just seems so weird. I mean, the entire ISF cast and crew for this summer will be there, and I don't want to make it about "Look how far I've come to show what he meant to ME."
Dave: Let it be about saying good-bye to him. About your feelings about him. You don't even need to speak to anybody, just go to say good-bye and then leave.
Sally: But I--I mean--I worked with him twice. The others have worked with him for years--
Dave: You played a lead opposite him. That's a connection that has meaning.
Sally: (starting to cry again, this time while sitting in the car in the driveway) I can't believe he's gone. I mean, I don't understand why it's affecting me so much.
Dave: (overlapping) I expected it to when I read about it.
Sally: (still crying) I mean, yes, I worked with him when I was just starting out. And last year, Salesman was my chance to--I realized I could do this, could be the artist I wanted to be, because of that show. And working with him. He was a big part of that.
Dave: Yes.
Sally: (still crying, having trouble speaking now, the breath control is gone) And it's not just that. I watched him work while I was growing up. He was a part of my childhood. It's like part of my life just died.
Dave: Yes. You don't have to make a decision about it now. Just think about it.
Sally: (still crying) Well, I think maybe I will go.
Dave: Good.
Sally: (still crying) I'll need to get waterproof mascara.
Dave: (laughing) Why?*
Sally: Well, the whole ISF summer company will be there and--
Dave: Why does that matter? It doesn't matter. You don't need to wear mascara.
He's right. As he is about so many things.
I have to admit, this grief has taken me by surprise. I feel, in many ways, as though I have no right to be this broken up. Though how do you measure the worth, the merit, the validity of an emotion? You don't. You can't. You just feel it. Still, it's strange; it seems excessive, given our history.
I knew Danny, but not as well as those people who had worked with him for years. We worked together twice. In the summer of 1995 and again in the fall of 2006. Frankly, I was a bit surprised he remembered me at all when we met up again to do Salesman, much less favorably. We hadn't done that much work together that summer at ISF, and it had been 11 years. Danny was, well, Danny, both then and now, while I'm just... me.
He was a good man, a wonderful actor. I was lucky to get to work with him. More than lucky, blessed. It was exactly the kind of experience I needed at the time. But it still seems strange to be so affected by his passing.I'm afraid I'll go to the memorial and weep and weep and people will wonder what the fuck I'm trying to prove. When I know it's not about that. It's about the fact that the world has lost such a kind, funny, wonderful person and now I really won't have the chance to ever act with him again.
It's not an ostentatious display, it's real and it's heartfelt, and I won't stop the crying if it happens at the memorial because I need to let the emotions move through me, even though it will seem to everyone else that I'm doing it for attention (Hey, I'm an actor, I understand the impulse to act out, I just don't do it.), when really I'll be trying to not create energy/emotional blockages that will affect my work. Danny would understand that.
Even though I know it's not remotely possible, I'd prefer to not see a single soul I know at the service. I'd like to just cry anonymously and then leave. But I am sure I will know at least... at least seven people there, probably closer to ten, and they will be the people everybody else there knows too. I won't. Be one of those people everybody knows. It's been too long since I left. Which, let me restate, is fine. It's just that once again, everyone will think I'm strange and misinterpret my response and that's just going to suck. My only hope (and an entirely plausible one) is that the venue will be so full that no one will even notice me in the crowd.
At least I don't tend to stand out as much in a roomful of actors as I do in a roomful of normal people.
* I don't usually wear mascara unless I'm going to a party, an audition or a performance.
Posted by sally at July 24, 2008 12:04 AM
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