He was my director the first time I was in a play. His Elmo impression was infamous amongst the younger actors, and he was always ready with a hug or high-five for those who needed it. this was a man who I admired, looked up to. I even loved him, because he was a part of the theatre that was also my home.
I knew him for ten years, though the last few years we saw each other less. Then today my director came to ask me how long I had been friends with him on Facebook. The questions kept coming, and finally I had to ask.
"Is something wrong?"
And that's when he told me. How he had had to let the man go. How he had had an "inappropriate relationship" with a girl in my theatre. That if anything had happened to me, I should tell him. And something had happened to me. But it wasn't something he could fix--no one can take the adult problems and complications away from my life.
Because, as I realized, I was not really sad about my director--we hadn't talked in months, and I've grown to expect people to have layers and be fallible. What I was mourning was the undeniable end of my childhood. Just as my director had made a grown-up mistake, my life has become that of a grownup. I'm not a child anymore, and it took the loss of one of my heroes to realize it.
IN more chipper news, I received an Xbox360 & Kinect, Catherine Howard Tudor doll for my collection, Civ V, Dance Central, AND the Rat Pack karaoke collection. That made me feel better.