(This post was written on Oct 18)
I was on Highland when I got the call from my brother. I was driving to Hollywood, to kick off the first Los Angeles Ignite at CineSpace (several years ago). I knew something was up. My brother and I weren't really talking to each other much at the time. I wondered who died. It was my Grandfather - Poppa Schlegel - the Patriarch of the Family. I pulled over to the side of the road before I answered the call.
Twenty minutes later, I was at the venue. My phone rang again. It was my Dad. I stepped into an empty closed back room and talked for 10 minutes. My Dad told me how Poppa died. We talked. And then I had to get off the phone, take a deep breath, and get up on stage and introduce the evening. And laugh and smooze and stuff.
I did it.
Part of me did it to see if I could do it. If I could segment the news of the passing of the family patriarch and go on with the show (called life).
I had my moments of mourning later. I went back to my hometown, to the Church, to bury Poppa in the cemetery I spend so many teenage goth years hanging out in, a few blocks from his house.
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I'm reminded of this. I'm reminded of Poppa's death. I've been in Portland for much of this week. My mom is dying.
It is amazing how stripped down things get. How things boil down to their essence. My schoolwork, goes undone. I have, against all odds, produced the most amazing third film I have the honor to work on. I applaud the team I hired. I applaud what we have created together. It has been a nice distraction.
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The veil is thin.
I can already see her going.
I am thankful she is not in pain. I am in awe at the woman she is - the woman who is not my mother. The woman all these people know. I only knew her as my mother. But she stands as an amazing individual on her own. And I think about this. I think about this fabulous person who is my mother. Who had so many challenges in her life, and faced all of them, mostly alone, a single woman.
I'm sitting here in her guest room, finally having a view of her, as she is. Not wearing the mom glasses. Not doing the nitpicky things like telling me to stand up straight or stop biting my finger nails, but as the woman who travel around the world, who had great friends, who enchanted men all over the world and ended up being my mom in Kansas City, Missouri.
I am honored to be her daughter.
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