On the Front Row of Adulthood

I spent the last week of June preparing myself for how July was going to go. Nothing could prepare me for this. Now a few days after giving part of my father's eulogy, I'm on the front row of adulthood.

Everything that has happened in LA is suddenly irrelevent. It doesn't matter. All the relationships. All the work. All the plans. Stopped. Doesn't matter. Could matter again at some point. But not now. I'm on the front row of adulthood.

Everything my father worked for. Everything he created and saved and put up and owned is my responsibility now. His son, my little brother, is my responsibility now, though I have help and the love and support for our family is great.

It's only been a little over a week. Last Monday I left LA in a panic, in devastation. My heart tore out of my chest. I don't know how I made it here. I was completely wrecked.

And in a way, I still am. I found consolation in staying busy and active - planning the funeral and how life would unfold at Riverview Drive next. Not crawling in the bed and weeping to my family and friends. I've had to communicate with everyone who was effected by my father's charm, friendship, and love. And, reader, trust me when I say that is a lot of folks.

Dad was someone who enabled me and backed me up. I never owed him anything. Never borrowed money. Never took anything. I'm proud of that. We are on even keel.

He was my mentor. He was someone who trusted the paths I chose to walk in life. What I was interested in, he was interested in. And that couldn't work the other way around. He was the glue that held the families together. Now I am.

Acting, and everything I had been doing, just seems silly now. It seems like something I barely did. Something devoid of purpose. Yes, I can run from Florence. I can come back to LA in no time and work harder, motivated by my father's belief in me. But how can I with so much responsibility with the Salter legacy? Who is the male presence for Samuel? I am not justifying to myself for staying here or absorbing your sympathy, I am just on the front row of adulthood.

I wrote something about how happiness comes from our own actions. It comes from what we do and perceive to be as enlightening. Somebody told me sources of happiness are everywhere. If there's sunshine outside, that's a blessing. Happiness is not succeeding and fulfilling your dreams, it's embracing your situation and looking for the things around you that are functioning and working to keep you sane and interested.

Dad was my rock, the reason I could go and explore and pursue dreams. The reason I created many happy memories. I came from him. Now he's gone. I have to come back to where he was. To what he created and had. I have to be a Salter now.

My belief is if I can stand over Dad, view his corpse, and give a speech about what he meant to the world a week after sunbathing in Santa Monica, I can do ANYTHING.