I know this is a bit late, but it’s been difficult for me to put my thoughts together about Chadwick Boseman’s death.

Chadwick was my age, a few months younger, but still part of that last cusp of Gen X. He was an extremely talented man who not only blessed us with his talent, but was given the opportunity to do it for the world to see. His work and dedication was justly acknowledged and, had he been given more time, would have more than likely become a living legend.

In times like these, when faced with the death of someone your age, or close to your age, it’s considered normal to think about both your mortality and your worth, and to be perfectly honest, his capabilities and achievements made me feel woefully inadequate. I worked most of my adult life as a performer in the entertainment industry, but because of my need for survival, I was afraid of diving all-in to the point of risking destitution. To ensure I didn’t lose a roof over my head, I turned down potential “creative work” for my day job, and even though my day job was also in the industry, it wasn’t what I wanted to do. It wasn’t because I didn’t have faith in myself, it was because I was afraid of being homeless, and not being able to get back up from that abyss.

About a year ago, I spoke to a friend of mine who is a few years younger than myself. He’s been a working actor for over two decades now. Even though he hasn’t achieved that “breakout” status yet, and he still deals with times when he needs to supplement his rent with a day job, he’s still doing it. He moved out from his hometown in middle America to New York, where I met him close to a decade before, and now is living in California. I wondered how he was able to do it. With my friend, going all-in was his only option and his family was more than willing to help him with his dream because he is indeed talented. He was grateful for his family’s understanding, but also hurt that he needed to still go through this process of requiring help. My friend had been far braver than myself, and even though I felt like I was chicken to begin with for trying to hold on to my day job, I could tell from my friend’s experiences, even with talent and a willingness to go all-in, there was no guarantee you’d have livable success.

Even when armed with this knowledge, I still couldn’t help weighing my own life against Boseman’s.

I acknowledge that his talent and career are in a different field than my own, and that there was different circumstances to his life, and that comparing our lives would be a literal comparison between apples to broccoli (forget oranges). That this is an act of futility on my part that only leads to negative thinking about myself. Yes, I’m not that ignorant, however, there’s one more thing about Chadwick’s death that hit close to home: my grandmother died due to a complication with colon cancer.

More than a decade ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with colon cancer and within five days of being diagnosed, died due to complications with the surgery. Many of us didn’t know she was sick until after she had passed. To know that Chadwick was still working, while in stage 4, is the mark of a true badass. Just like my grandmother, no one knew either of them were sick. They didn’t tell anyone beyond those in their immediate circle and although it took five days for my grandmother, Chadwick fought four years from diagnosis AND filmed “Black Panther”, “Avengers: Infinity War”, “Avengers: End Game”, and eight other films (two still to be released as of the writing of this) up until his death.

Chadwick Boseman, a man who was the same age as I, died two days before my birthday.

It’s the year of the pandemic, where many of us are really feeling our mortality and rebelling against all the “powers that be”, whatever is our personal cause, to grasp on any sliver of control, whether real or imaginary, violent or peaceful, intentional or not, to make us believe we are fully in control over this thing called “Life”. (Yes, I’m directly referencing Prince’s “Let Go Crazy”)

What Chadwick Boseman’s life taught me, while going through all of this was that everyone’s life, no matter how similar, is still going to go through it’s own current, and it’s on you, whether you are healthy or sick, to make your own decisions on how you want to live it. Our measurement isn’t against someone else’s yard stick, but our own. The material he chose was based on his conscious effort: if he deemed the finished work would be something that would inspire, he’d do it. From what I’ve learned of him since his death, he was a man to be respected. He spoke softly and was a genuine individual.

Even his fans speaking ill of him because of the way he looked before he died, not knowing he was sick, was a lesson of the vanity of our industry. No matter how hard you worked, or how much you worked, the shallowness of common folks will always be there. There’s no point using them as your measurement of success, because no matter what, it would never be enough. That’s not a way to find career happiness, just a distorted personal image.

Chadwick played the long game, even though he wasn’t meant to stay to see the outcome, his talent and his body of work will still live on to change the film industry, as it should, because the choices he made was toward a higher calling. Something more of us should do on the daily.

So thank you Mr. Boseman for your lessons and for your body of work, which is the testament to your beliefs and dedicated to your craft. Your life reminds us that we can only control how we choose to live our lives, not the forces around us, and no matter what those outside forces are, as long as we’re doing something we believe in, that’s really all that matters in the end.

Rest in Peace. Rest in Power. Rest in Grace. Wakanda Forever.