It's been a rather long week for me. I arrived in Iowa on Monday evening around 6:30 to very cold weather and snow. On Tuesday, I picked up the keys to my house, stopped by to see if everything I needed was there and then went to Wal-Mart to pick up all the things you need when you are setting up a new house. Things like trash cans and bags, silverware, dishes, sheets and pillowcases, groceries etc. I brought everything home, cleaned a little and then went out for dinner. My meal consisted of the WORST Thai food I have ever had. All of these things will be discussed later.

As I was paying for my meal, my friend C.D. called from San Diego. It went to voice mail. I went to my car and returned the call. We had about 2 sentences of niceties, and then he said that he had some bad news for me, that I had to keep quiet about until it was announced publicly. At first I thought he was going to say that he and his new wife were splitting up. I was wrong. C.D. proceeded to tell me that my mentor, advisor, and friend C.P. had died on Monday night. Not only that, he had killed himself.

I sat stunned in my car not knowing what to say. I still don't know what to say. It's like a bad dream that I want to wake up from. How could this be. I had just left him a message on Monday night telling him about my new job and asking him to call me back. How could this be, he had classes to teach. And shows to design.

I asked C.D. for details. It appeared there weren't many. C.P. had missed a couple of appointments on Monday, and didn't show up for class on Tuesday. C.D. and T.O. got worried and called the chair of the department. I don't know the exact flow of the events but it ended with the chair and another department person going to C.P.'s apartment where they found him, a note, and his effects in order. They didn't say how he had done it, because as soon as they realized what was going on, they called the police. It's funny how we want the morbid details to satisfy our curiosity.

The emotions I have felt this week have been many. I have been sad, angry, depressed, lonely. It saddens me mostly to think that C.P. thought things were so bad that he had to end it. Didn't he know that he was loved? Didn't he know how much he meant to all of us. Not just as a teacher. But as I have already said. As a friend. As someone we looked up to. Respected.

I have been on the phone non-stop since I got the news. People calling me to see how I am doing. Me calling others to do the same. We are all in shock. The reality is beginning to set in, but it's not a nice feeling. One of the phone conversations I had was with my friend K.E a set designer that took a lighting class C.P.'s lighting class our last year together.. She and I were in the same class at school and she is my closest friend in my graduating class. In all we have spoken about 2.5 hours in the last three days. She said something to me last night that put things in perspective. She pointed out that C.P.'s death was not about me. It was about him. It was his choice. Right or wrong. His choice. For whatever reason, which we'll never know he decided that he could not go one. He felt that his only out was to end it. I'm sorry he felt that way, but it's true. He got to decide for himself.

I feel like it's our job now to celebrate his life. He was a wonderful designer. He had a Tony award to prove it. He was loved by most everyone. They found him funny and quirky. He never lost his British accent even though he had lived in the states for almost 20 years. He had gone from being fat and married to skinny and gay. If you went in to his office in the evening you would probably hear Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy, Me. Or It's Raining Men. Or anything disco. C.P. often worked late and was always around when you needed help on a project. He had a million ways of looking at a design challenge and was great at making you figure out what would work best for your design. He could also be caddy. He once cornered me in my office and said..."I don't know if you know this, but your getting fat." I once told him to get out of my office before someone dropped a house on him. I often called him a bitch. Never in front of other students but we were both gay and had that sort of relationship with each other. He would sit behind me in tech and make me a nervous wreck. Even if things were going well. I assisted him in upstate NYC once and we had to walk a mile back to our lodging at the end of the evening. Every night on our way back he would ask me what I learned that day. He was anxious to make sure I was getting the most out my experience working with him. He would often sneak into my office in the evening and very discretely ask for a gin and tonic. As a teacher he wasn't interested in turning out clones of himself. He recognized that everyone has a different approach to design and he let us embrace our approach and refine it. He was famous for being "cheap" and refused to pay the 300 plus dollars for a faculty parking permit. So, he would come in at the end of his day and ask for a ride to his car which was inevitably parked 10 miles away. And I guess what I loved most about him, was that he fought for me to attend school in San Diego. I originally turned down his offer, for a number of reasons which all seem stupid now, but he called and called and continued to call. He met with me and even had the chair of the department call me to convince me that his program was for me. In the end he was right. I learned so much about myself, my art, and theatre that I would never have learned at another program. He taught me that I was good at what I did and to embrace it. He taught me that it's healthy to fear a project but then you had to meet the challenge head on and beat it. He taught me a lot.

I loved him a lot.

I miss him already.