#3 GOODBYE ACTING AKA THOUGHTS OF A GRANDCHILD

Homestretch. Season finale.

Actually, I want to write a love letter. A paean to the last summer in my hometown before everything would change. But is that even justified? Amidst all the greatness I had the privilege to experience, there were, of course, lows as well. That's nothing unusual, but somehow it bursts the perfect bubble. Reality sobers, but that's why it also brings clarity. Then besides new and exciting experiences, there are also omnipresent thoughts that sometimes fade into the background amid the great excitement...

It's July 2022. The season at the theater, where I am playing my first female lead role on the big outdoor stage instead of just the small hall, is flying by rapidly. Initial nervousness quickly turns into confidence and routine. I like my role, the tragedy, but also the strength it radiates. I love the costumes, from the wedding dress in which the prentended joy and love almost flow out of me automatically. In a later scene, my character begins confidently, but when terrible news reaches her, she collapses. Sometimes I even manage to have real tears in my eyes. I become one with the role, telling myself internally over and over that it's my life falling apart. I scream, sob, am angry, stunned, helpless. It somehow feels good to be able to release such emotions. An hour and many kilometers later on the plotline, I am invited to festivities with "my family": in the extravagant ball gown, I really feel like a princess. Never before have I been in such a lavish and voluminous outfit, thanks to the hoop skirt. Pink ruffles and sequins sparkle in the spotlight, along with the earrings that are almost competing for gazes with the glittering necklace. All just costume jewelry, of course, but when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel "like a million dollars."

The show continues with drama, lies, intrigues, longing... In the end, of course, everything turns out well: the villain dies, the lovers come together. Lights out. Applause.

Applause - the artist's bread. It feels damn good, provides confirmation and recognition, no question. But what really brings me joy are the familiar faces in the audience when family or friends are watching. Since my childhood, I've been acting in the theater, mostly in supporting roles to be fully involved but not quite as committed. But this year, in my third lead role, it somehow mattered to me. The thought of "this is the very last season I will play here" had etched itself into my mind. Perhaps because I had subconsciously already accepted that I would never live long-term in this city again. That's why I'm so moved when my invitations are accepted. Finally, I can show what I've been rehearsing for the past few months and what has been a part of me and a huge passion for years. Many friends are pleasantly surprised, saying they never knew this side of me existed. My biggest fan is my grandpa. Since the first visit with grandma and friends of theirs, he almost always comes alone anew when I am part of the cast on this weekend. He is one of the few who really talks with me in-depth about the role and my performance. The first time I hear how proud both of them are, I almost shed real tears.

I feel similarly emotional when my other grandparents, after weeks of asking and pursuing, finally tell me that they won't be able to make it to one of my shows. The obstacles are too great and numerous for my wheelchair-bound grandpa to comfortably make it to the audience. I am very sad, especially because any hurdle could have been overcome with united forces. The fear that the last chance to show the two my performance on the big stage could pass by unused, becomes a reality. Initial disbelief turns into disappointment and then into acceptance. But what else could I do?

But what becomes clear to me through this: How important it is for me to let the oldest in my family participate in my life. I want to show them what their grandchild makes of their life. What I'm passionate about, what I achieve and experience. I wish for them to be filled with pride when they see what I do, that I live my life in a way that fulfills me. I want to transfer all my impressions and happiness to them, tell them about my adventures. Because I live through them; all four of them have always been there since day one. My strongest allies, the foundation of everything I know, built during the unimaginably long span of life that all of them have already lived. And I want to be a part of it, as the final addition to their legacy. For over 20 years, you've seen me grow, been there at every step, and always as unconditional support. Omas, Opas; there is no way to adequately repay or thank you, at least I haven't found it yet. I just never want to stop fascinating you. So that you know what incredible things you have created - indirectly through the founding of the family, but also directly with all the love and affection, support, and the passing on of values over all these years that make me the person I am. But also or especially because of the oceans between us, I continue to evolve, constantly, every day. And I don't want to withhold this development from you. I appreciate your recognition, but more importantly, I want you to know that you can be proud of yourselves. You are a part of why I am here, why I can live my life confidently and freely. I am proud to be your granddaughter, and I hope I can make you proud too.

I miss you and love you very much.