I Do.

I have to admit…

I’ve only wanted this blog to be work-related.  That’s why I don’t post very often.  I’m rarely allowed to talk about my jobs.  (Please see {both} earlier posts!)

But a couple of weeks ago, things kind of… changed.

It’s odd.  My soft-spoken neighbor, Randy Kreeger, whom I’ve known on a casual basis for the last couple of years, (the extent of our relationship was to plot about dressing up as ninjas in the middle of the night to replace all of the plants on our common area patio with frilly types of geraniums because no one in our small, 10 unit historical building could agree on a “look”) was murdered in his apartment a mere 60 feet away from mine.

No… unlike many of our neighbors, I wasn’t scared.  It was an isolated incident.  Randy knew his attacker and had even let him in the front door.  The kid was so stupid that he…

Well..

The details aren’t pertinent.

But what came out of it is:

The moment I pulled into the driveway and heard that Randy was “missing,” I knew we’d never see him again and to me… it became a business.  I watched the police.  I listened to the questions.  I numbed out and took notes because…

This is what I do.

My wheelhouse is FBI-Cop-Lawyer-Ass-Kicking-Tough-Chick and right then, I wasn’t acting… I was experiencing it all first hand.

Within 24 hours, I got the news that Randy was no longer with us.  I was sitting in the booth, recording a game when the text arrived and as I sucked in my breath, feeling as though I’d been punched, my darling director, Patrick Seitz, asked if I needed a moment.

“No, thank you.  May we please keep working?”

The following day, as I heard that Randy’s attacker had been apprehended and had ultimately confessed, I was back in the booth recording another game as a a sweet-voiced, child-like dragon who must say good-bye to a complicated, tough-talking villain.  Tears ran down my face as I delivered the dialogue.  And then…

I had an epiphany:

I’ve always done this.  I have always turned to work when things got out of control.

–When my parents didn’t get along, I buried myself in show albums and sang at the top of my lungs.

–When I had to make decisions as to with whom I would spend the holidays, I sighed with relief as I avoided the conflict because “I had to work.”

–When my husband died, I was back in the studio 48 hours after his memorial.   (Ironically, on Memorial Day)  I remember my animation director, Kelly Ward, hugging me and saying, “We’re recording on Wednesday but take all the time you need.”

I replied…

“I’ll see you Wednesday.”

My work is my solace.  It’s my love.  It isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am.  For better or worse. For richer or poorer.  In sickness and in health…

I Do.

And I’m so grateful for the opportunity.

So today, after processing for the last couple of weeks, I am going to romp out and buy a geranium for Randy.  It will sit proudly on my back patio and I will always remember his sweet demeanor and how unfair it is that he is gone.

And I will always wish that I could have done something about it. Because that’s what…

I Do.

Addendum:

Today, I opened my mailbox and what should arrive for the first time in 6 years?

A Jury Duty notice.

Well played, Universe.  Well played.

2 Responses to I Do.

  1. Erin says:

    Lovely post. I’m sorry to hear about Randy. You’ve immortalized him with your voice and charm in this post. Work is solace and joy and will always be there for you. Thanks for this inspiring post.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>