Learning From Loss
A close friend of mine passed away recently. He’s the only friend from college I still had a strong relationship with.
He was so talented and I secretly envied him in so many ways. I respected him as an actor, director, businessman, writer, and most significantly, as a husband and father. I appreciated his drive and fearlessness as an entrepreneur and I admired his ability to set priorities and put his family first.
He loved his family beyond my ability to describe it. He was infinitely proud of his two sons and I could see in his eyes the crazy love he felt for his wife. He adored them and he worshipped her.
He also knew how to get what he wanted in his business. Through the masterful use of his influencing skills, he could persuade just about anyone to see his point of view. He was an amazing writer and I was always so impressed when I read his work. He won awards and created a business around his passion for writing.
He knew how to tell a story. Whether he was directing, acting, writing, or just persuading others to believe in his ideas, he told his story with deep passion and meaning. He always saw the story from all perspectives and brought it to life in exactly the way his audience needed to experience it.
I was his biggest fan, and any time he came to me for help or advice, I felt honored. He was intelligent and I enjoyed our conversations. I consistently felt smarter after our always energetic discussions.
We made each other laugh. A lot! We shared inside jokes from our performance touring days and some times a single word would send us into fits of hysteria. Seemingly innocent words like transfer or camp could ignite convulsive laughter from some dark place deep inside us. There were other times when I would hear someone say one of our trigger words and be just fine. That is, until he caught my eye and gave me “the look.” At that point fighting the inevitable laughter would be futile and probably cause an even more embarrassing scene. The best course of action in those cases was to willingly let it all out. People just never understood what was so funny. It was our secret and it annoyed the hell out of people when we…