I have not blogged in a long time, but I need to do so today. I recently had an epiphany (or was her name Tiffany) and I want to share what I learned.

I have been “almost famous” for a long time. I work very hard at my craft and last week I thought I may be on the verge of my “big break” when I did well on an audition for a new pilot on HBO. But they “went with someone else” who was shorter and less fond of unnecessary “quotation marks” than I am.

I also received some other discouraging news with regard to a certain comedy festival somewhere in Canada (I won’t say the name of the city but it rhymes with Bontreal). In short, I was starting to feel like one career door after another was slamming in my face. I even started to feel a little bit of professional jealousy of my friends who are hot in the business right now. And just when my self-obsessed self-centered selfishness was approaching record altitude (and that’s really saying something), the phone rang.

Mom: Hi, Clayton
CF: Hi, Mom. You’re crying. What’s wrong.
Mom: Grandmom died last night.

Talk about a wake-up call! Here I am, “Poor me, I didn’t get HBO, my friend is doing Law and Order, how come he gets to play Madison Square Garden and I don’t, blah blah wah wah wah” and the proverbial ton of bricks was waiting in the wings.

My grandmother was one of my best friends. I haven’t felt a loss like this since the Colts moved to Indiana. At this point, who gives a damn about whether some “industry person” thinks that my comedy act needs a stronger “point of view.”  When you lose a dear friend and family member, crap like that doesn’t matter anymore.

I canceled seven comedy spots last weekend, jumped on the first train to Baltimore, and began the mourning process. Special thanks to God for five straight days of rain just to help me and my Seasonal Affective Disorder really set the tone for a rip-roaring funeral. Nice touch, dude.

I returned to the stage last night after a week’s layoff. The sold-out crowd wanted to laugh but I didn’t want to make them laugh. And then the memory of my grandmother overcame me. She was one person who thought everything I did or said was funny. I know that I brought her so much joy over the years through my sense of humor. Last night, I felt her encouraging me to do the same for the hundred-plus people at New York Comedy Club.

And I did. And the epiphany hit me. One detail I left out is that my grandmother died of a heart attack while doing a jigsaw puzzle. She loved puzzles about as much as I love performing. It all came together for me while I was onstage last night. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself when the industry doesn’t pick me to be the next Clayton Fletcher. I should be living my life thanking God for the fact that I make a good living doing something that I truly love and making people feel good. Even if I never get my HBO special this story has to be considered a success. I will die someday too, and I just hope I’m lucky enough to die with a mic in my hand.

From now on, no more “poor me.” I have it good, really good, and I need to remember what is really important in life:  loving what you do each day.

Thank you, Grandmom, for showing me the way.