The Final Curtain Call

Last night I was informed of the passing of a cherished one, Carolla O'Connell. I had the honor of meeting her and learning from her when I attended high school... she was my drama instructor and so much more. As I sit here, with my shattered heart slipping through my trembling fingers, reflecting on my life and the impact she made... sorrow consumes me.

As a teenager, I dreamed of being a poet, author, musician and artist... silly dreams, most stated. Carolla O'Connell was an accomplished actress and knew of the difficulties that surrounded an artist's life and the struggles that would arise. I remember asking her for a written letter of recommendation when I applied to Berkeley... she looked up at me, squinted her eyes and agreed. It wasn't until after high school, on a visit at her home, that I truly understood what she once saw in me... an artist. I had stopped by to see her while I was on a return trip to my home town to prepare for my adventure in D.C. ... I had been nominated International Poet of The Year and was going to the competition in hopes of success. She shared with me on that visit, that many students had come to her over the years, like I did, for a letter of recommendation to pursue the arts... however, she refused most. She told me, "They are just being stupid and should get a decent education." . I laughed and smiled at her as I replied, "But you wrote one for me?". Again she looked at me, with squinted eyes and simply said, "Ah, yes I did." . I was moved and confused at the same time. In high school, I always auditioned for the lead role in our plays... Mrs. O'Connell always refused and cast me as the supporting role. It was that day, on that particular visit, that she explained why. She told me that my job of supporting the lead, was what made the characters come to life and give the piece it's value. She said I was too talented for the lead and I was needed elsewhere. It all came together... after years, the veiled had been lifted.

Indeed, I never became the things I dreamt of being... my writing and musical achievements are laughable at best. Carolla O'Connell had seen me over the years at my best and at my very worst... an insane, drug addled hooligan. Even in those moments, she believed in me... she saw something of value and importance. I can't help but to feel as if that part of me died with her... those hopes and dreams, my value and importance, that dreamt of artist. I am beside myself and I know not what to do with these emotions racing through my veins. Carolla O'Connell will always be remembered and cherished by those whose lives she touched... but to me, she was more than words could ever give justice. I think of Juliet and I can't escape the feeling that she was terribly mistaken... there is no sweet in this parting, only sorrow.