My Dad.

I’ve got about half an hour before I need to be backstage getting ready for the show, and it is a bittersweet experience. I am pumped for our sold out crowd and successful run (and the cast party!!) but at the same time, I’m…something.

I’m not sad, exactly. “Sad” isn’t the word I want. I’m not exactly sure how to describe it. I almost feel lonely. I’ve been a part of this cast and process (officially) for nearly 6 months now, but even before that, dating Jake means that I was also dating the show, and it became a part of our relationship, and I love that. We, both as a couple and in groups of friends would spend hours talking about ideas and possibilities.  “When we do Titus” became our standard car ride and down time topic, and now…I guess we’re going to have to find something else to talk about.

I’m not worried. Shows come and go, but it is my firm belief that it is the experiences you have in them that makes all of the bullshit worth it– and this astoundingly beautiful experience has been a prime example of what possibilities there are in even the “worst” of scripts.

I also have realized just how exactly much I miss my dad.

Last night my mom came to the show and sat next to a chair that was not yet occupied. Eventually, some person came and sat down next to her and I was mad because he’d taken my dad’s seat. Then I realized that he wasn’t coming.

This show has been weird for me about stuff like that. I’ve tried to play it cool most of the time, but sometimes it just hits me how much of my life my dad won’t get to see.  He saw the possibilities, that’s for sure, and to his credit did everything to foster my interests and abilities, but sometimes it sucks knowing that he never got to see me get paid to write about Star Trek or meet Jake. He’ll never walk me down the aisle or…well, a lot of things I suppose. I feel like I have so much potential, that there are so many things I want to do and see and accomplish and fail at, and I just wish my dad could be here to see…one of them.

I always feel selfish when I write about my dad, because I know that lots of people lose people every day and I know that every loss is just as personal and hurts just as deeply as my loss, but playing Lavinia, in some way, has kind of reminded me what it’s like to have a dad (and I just realized there’s no non-creepy way of saying that) and so I think the end of the show is hitting me particularly hard.

I could do this show forever. I really could. The cast, the script, what we did with the “problem” moments…it’s been phenomenal.

And in the end, I guess all we can say is that we tried–fucking hard–and I think we nailed it.

And that is the best feeling in the world.

2 Replies to “My Dad.”

  1. You are right, everyone experiences loss and hurt and pain and sadness. But you have every right to those emotions, and every right to miss your Dad. It is what makes us human, learning how to cope when life throws a wrench into our machinery. I hope you know (even though I didn’t know him) that he would be and is proud of you, in every thing that you do.
    I can’t wait to see your final performance this evening. You are so very stunning!

  2. “I feel like I have so much potential, that there are so many things I want to do and see and accomplish and *fail at*”

    That is the part that made me teary eyed. F*** yes, failure.

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