Ryan Roach didn’t make it.
I heard the news that Ryan, an actor I have worked with who is my age, died of a stroke, moments after I had angry walked my way downtown with Actor Boy to my celebration dinner.
I was angry and upset because I had just seen the pictures of the very pregnant AWT posted on FB, that was liked by several mutual friends. Part of me was, and is, still screaming,, “Why does everyone still think this is OK?”
But now, knowing that a very talented and very loved actor person died suddenly at such a young age, my such young age, makes me less vexed. (Let there be no mistake, I am still a selfish bitch and I kind of hope that AWT’s pregnancy goes into several overdue days, because I’m an ass and I don’t really wish any ill on a blameless child, but I would like to see some karmic justice for those who played an active part in the whole monstrosity.)
I am less vexed and I am sorry for the theater community who lost Ryan.
I wonder if I have done enough with these last ten years to warrant the extra time and I am not at all entirely convinced that this is my time and not someone ‘s.
It makes me wonder what I should do with the rest of it. I can’t just let it sit on the shelf like the Indoor S’more’s maker that I’m afraid to use because it might set fire to the house.
But I am a little less prone to making sarcastic references to that handful of folk who kind of wished that I hadn’t survived,because things would be simpler (Don’t pretend you don’t exist, I’m pretty sure I know who you are.)
It doesn’t matter.
I win this round.
Ryan, you will be missed.
Give Mr. Steve a big hug and tell Larry to light you up a miracle for the rest of us.