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He created and stars in it with the rest of his Colorado-based comedy troupe, the Grawlix.
But its mostly a work about human connection, mental illness, and grief.
As he grew into his career as a professional comedian and creator, she helped him hone his material.
But ten days before he soldThose Who Cant, Lydia, suffering from depression, took her own life.
Heres an excerpt, a chapter called The Grief Peddler.
Ten days after Lydia died I went to Los Angeles for my as-previously-scheduled post-Montreal victory lap.
Like everything was somehow normal.
Like thats just what you do.
All part of the game.
I didnt want to go.
I was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.
But then I could barely get out of bed the next morning.
My dog had to howl to rouse me.
There was nothing I could do about those.
Hardly the time to go to Hollywood and chase the dream.
But my family insisted I make the trip.
Lydia would have wanted that, they said.
She was my biggest cheerleader.
She would be devastated if her death derailed all the progress I had made.
Like I gave a fuck.
I was still too mad at Lydia to care what she would have wanted.
But I could sense that my family needed it, and I suppose I did too.
We needed a distraction, a break from the relentless misery that was consuming us.
And if I could provide that in even some small way, I felt like I probably should.
Every minute I was discussing Hollywood douchebaggery was another minute we werent all talking about death.
I told my manager to not set me up with any meaningless meetings.
I was hanging on by a frayed thread; my threshold for bullshit was nil.
He assured me that he would do his best.
I had nothing to prove to anyone.
Hows it going, man!
What have you been up to since Montreal?!
Finding my little sisters body, writing her eulogy, holding my mother while she weeps.
Uh-huh, uh-huh, thats great!
Listen, we are going to keep you in mind foranythingthat comes up.
Weve got our eye on you!
At night I drank alone until I felt numb.
Then Id head out on foot.
I never had a destination in mind, it just felt good to move.
To remember that I was alive.
That my limbs were working and could carry me in whatever direction I chose.
Id make turns down streets I didnt recognize.
Id deliberately take a stab at get lost.
And when the neighborhood would inevitably turn seedy or dangerous, I embraced it.
I would start talking to God through gritted teeth, quietly, beneath my breath.
I would goad him, dare him to do his worst.
Go ahead, fuck with me.
I want you too.
Bring the darkness down upon me.
I fucking dare you.
I felt like I could destroy anything I came up against.
And I wanted to.
I wanted to destroy it all.
Let this all come to an end.
But nothing ever came for me.
Theyd gotten all they needed from me, from my family.
I kept going to meetings.
Including one with Amazon.
They liked our script enough to give us money to make a pilot.
Just like I always wanted.
So there was that.
I called home and let my family know.
I had sold a TV show.
This was a worthy distraction.
The trip could be called a success.
And I didnt care at all.
She was living in Los Angeles and had heard the news about Lydia.
It was such a kind, unexpected offer I couldnt even think of a reason to say no.
When I showed up my friend hadnt arrived yet.
Some guy I had never met answered the door of a massive house, right on the water.
You must be Adam, he said with a smile.
I wondered what all he knew, what my friend had told him.
Did he know me as Adam the comic, a funny friend from Denver visiting LA?
Or was I Adam the guy whose little sister just killed herself?
Was there even a difference anymore?
He toured me around his house and then neither one of us really knew what to say.
We just stood there in silence, both wishing our mutual friend would show up.
it’s possible for you to go swimming if you want, he offered.
I just got out, but if you feel like hopping in the ocean, by all means.
I headed down to the private beach, a little swath of Malibu all to myself.
But it never does.
Best to take it all on at once.
Overhead, column after column of pelicans approached, then disappeared down the beach.
I couldnt see any beauty.
I couldnt feel any wonder.
I didnt belong there, or anywhere.
I tried to sink.
Tucked my knees into my chest and dropped to the ocean floor.
It wanted nothing to do with me.
It just kept pushing me up to the surface.
And I was so very much alive.
Copyright 2018 by Adam Cayton-Holland.
