Why are you haunting me?
I’m sitting here minding my own business, listening to a YouTube loop of jazz music combined with rain, creating an ambience akin to that of a favorite coffee joint around the corner. I’ve been in my share of these; warming my hands with a latte while people-watching, wondering quietly about the lives the people around me must live.
On this day or all days, when it’s clearly the summertime in this part of the world, while I’m seated quietly doing next to nothing, why did your face... that thoughtful, smiling, freckled face that infused any and every room you occupied with palpable joy... why did it just pop into my mind?
As far as I know, it’s not your birthday. You and I weren’t actually close to one another by any stretch of the imagination, so for sure no one is celebrating a significant occasion. Not an anniversary, not a graduation, nothing. My last image of you was of a memory... I was sitting in on an acting class you were teaching. Some new faces, some more familiar, all of them devastatingly beautiful. There was a late night powwow that followed, I no longer remember where. All I know was that I was saying good-bye to my life in Los Angeles, and I know that I needed to say good-bye to you, as you were in some way a big enough part of it.
I never really got to thank you, you know? Not in any way that would’ve really mattered. And I know that you can’t hear me anymore since you’ve passed away. God, that’s way too benign a way to describe how you left this mortal coil. You “passed away.” I’m still angry, you know? Angry that it happened at all.
And yes, I’m grateful that our paths crossed at all. I remember you clearly when I see my classmates being their badass selves. Misha, Sumalee, Joe, Kate, just to name a few. When I see them, I think of you. And I’m grateful.
I miss you. I know, it’s been a minute, but I miss you. I was going to take a class with you again, just to do a checkup of my chops. But mostly just to see you. But it never happened, be it due to jet lag, or schedules or whatever.
I was so proud when you created your own studio. Yes, a space to call his own! He’s going to touch so many lives in the way he touched mine, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart filled with glee at the thought of that.
But you’re gone. It’s a loss they will never know, a loss that those you have touched will feel for, maybe forever.
I don’t know why you’re haunting me today. Maybe it’s because I have a self-tape to do in a few hours, and you would’ve been the one to guide me through it (I’ve been aided by someone truly excellent, so I’m in safe and able hands, don’t you worry). I remember the one time I sought you for a private coaching session; you knew how to make me feel safe and ready to take on that audition panel. No, I didn’t get the job, but it didn’t matter. You made acting feel like it wasn’t as intimidating as I once thought. And every time I act now, I keep you at the forefront of my mind, as if you’re right there behind me, guiding me through it.
I’ve rambled on enough, I think... this long-winded post is my roundabout way of telling you how much I valued you as my teacher. If your spirit is still floating around somewhere, I want you to know that.
Thank you, Stan. Until we meet again.