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As I was driving to the show last night, Pauline called.

"Oscar's dead," she said.

Oscar was Mary-Beth's stepfather. Mary-Beth's been my friend since high school--in fact, she was my first real girlfriend. Her father died of cancer shortly after we stopped dating, and her mother remarried a few years later. Oscar was a kind man, very handy on projects, and devoted to the Catholic church and to Buns' mother.

With only two minutes before I jumped into show mode, I couldn't allow myself to feel much. The wake is Sunday from 2-5--the exact time as my final performance. Monday is the funeral, which I won't be able to attend--big PR conference that we've been planning for over a month.

As Bob Fosse commented in All That Jazz , there's a special place in hell reserved just for me. I kid, but I hate the fact that I've become so task driven and focused--that I can't allow myself the luxury of grieving for a friend. After these next few days, that's changing.
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