It’s been a month since he died. Time has been an odd, warped blur. I don’t remember who I am without him or what I even was before this happened. Before the service, I only left my parents’ house less than a handful of times in the last 30 days (minus my 5 mile walk every day). I’ve only eaten tacos for a month. It’s the only thing that’s sounded good or that hasn’t felt too exhausting to eat.
The service was this past Friday. I’d written one paragraph of my eulogy a few days earlier but couldn’t bring myself to write the second half of it until 10 pm the night before. I didn’t want to engage with the finality of it. I still don’t accept his death. He was too special, too sweet, too once in a lifetime. The days leading up to it, all I could say was, I don’t want to say goodbye, over and over. I was just sticking my head in the sand and staying in denial. But, in the end, the service day was extremely healing for me. I needed all that beautiful community. I needed to share in all the love that hundreds of people felt for my angel brother.
I keep saying how people always exaggerate people’s good qualities when someone dies, but every word about RJ is 100% true or actually nowhere near enough to describe the truth of how perfect he was. Nobody in his life has ever had a bad word to say about him. So many of the messages I’ve received are about how he protected someone from a bully or helped them when they were scared or how he went out of his way to do something above and beyond kind for them. The impact that he had while he was on this earth is nothing short of incredible.
I haven’t done comedy since the night he died. The crazy part is I didn’t know yet what had happened and I came home after two great shows at The Comedy Store that night and journaled about how thankful I am for my life, how excited I was about comedy, and how grateful I am that I made such an amazing recovery from on and off depression in my life.
I debated on writing this Substack because this whole experience has made me retreat so far inward. But I realize, life has knocked me on my ass and I need to push myself to share and connect even if it feels uncomfortable and like contrary action. It’s the only way to survive. To be vulnerable. Even if I’m not used to sharing this side of myself publicly. It’s the truth of where I’m at right now. And hopefully, I pray can help someone else.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am woo woo spiritual cuckoo and have been all my life. One crazy undeniable connection with RJ moment was that I randomly wrote a line in my eulogy about him doing his Edgar from Men in Black impression (it used to make me laugh so hard) the night before his funeral and then the next morning, as I was getting ready with my mom, Men in Black, was the first song to play on Spotify out of nowhere. I no joke hadn’t heard that song in years. It was too specific to deny. I said, Hi RJ. Miss him. Glad he’s still making me laugh on the other side.
Another funny moment that had all my girlfriends laughing about the absurdity of life was how I had to audition for Mrs. Potato Head a few days after he died. I had to stop crying for 30 minutes to try and sound like 90-year-old Estelle Harris (she was a genius). It was like trying to dam up the Colorado River to do a clown dance. And the day after that, I auditioned to play an animatronic bus lol. Can’t make this shit up. The first few weeks, I would feel guilty when I would laugh once a day. How can there be laughter in a world without him? But now, I know I need to channel his goofy ass and cherish every laugh I can. He would hate for me to shut down or have a bad life or give up on my dreams. I am going to be starting comedy again in the next week and get back on tour in May. Please come see me, I will be a different person but I think hopefully in a good way.
I am praying God sends me true love this year to heal my heart so I can get married and knocked up with a little D1 child and name him/her RJ. I also will be starting a podcast soon (there aren’t enough out there!). RJ actually brainstormed a ton of ideas for the podcast title and sent them to me the day before he died. So sweet. He was SO creative and generous. I gotta do it to honor him. I don’t know how a podcast would honor him lol but just by committing to my projects fully because that is what he would want is what I mean I guess. I pray I also get on a kids’ show soon so I can act in something that his children can watch and maybe get some joy from.
Seeing your parents sob from the depths of their soul every day is one of the worst things a person can experience. If it has never happened to you, I pray it never does. But they say the depth of the pain is equal to the amount of love you have for the person you lost, and that’s infinity so I guess the pain is infinity too.
Lastly, have to mention how much I’ve learned about being there for others. I can’t say enough about how our friends and family have shown up for us during this time. They have truly carried us at our lowest of lows. I am so grateful. People I haven’t seen in 15, 20, 30 years showed up to the funeral. A lot of my old UCLA teammates who spent time with RJ. Comedian friends carpooled down from LA and surprised me. All the messages, calls, cards, pictures, flowers, pajamas, food. I really saw a good side of humanity in the depths of our pain and reconnected with so many old friends.
A lot of people have asked where God is in an unspeakable tragedy like this, and I have come to think that the only answer is community.
I have a lot more to write and I am going to push myself to keep sharing so I don’t fall in a hole.
Thanks, love you,
Blair
SHOWS COMING UP (PLEASE COME SEE ME I NEED YOU):
Denver May 9-10
Springfield, MO May 16-17
Seattle May 23rd
Sacramento June 18
San Francisco June 19
Tickets: punchup.live/blairsocci
Thank you for this, Blair. It is beautiful.
God is in community- so true. This is beautiful Blair