An awful, strange, and bittersweet space
Last weekend I went to a celebration of life for a friend from high school. It’s been over 20 years since he and I truly hung out. But this friend was sunshine and fun. He was deep and chill. He was great.
I felt compelled to go.
I was also worried that I’d be an intruder since it had been so long since we hung out. Sure, I saw him around town over the years but those were brief, random encounters, they didn’t really count. But then again, I remembered those moments with a smile, so maybe they did?
I decided to go to the celebration of life because I wanted his loved ones to see how many people he impacted in his life, regardless of how much time had passed.
I entered the building and had to weave my way through a sea of people to find a spot to stand. This gathering was sad, people wore long faces and red eyes as they listened intently to every word spoken during the service. But seeing the place packed wall to wall with people who were all there to remember the same person – so many lives touched and impacted – made me smile in this bittersweet moment.
After the service, people sought each other out to offer comfort. People shared knowing looks, hugs, and stories with loved ones, with strangers, and, if you’re like me, with people you haven’t talked to in 20 years. It was a bit strange.
I shared about my job and family and, for the first time, I told people I’m a writer because…well… I write. I found out that two friends from high school not only still hang out regularly but they live in the same apartment building. I listened and admired the raw honesty of someone as she shared her regrets about not hanging out with our friend the last time she was invited. I watched in awe as his newly widowed wife ever so coolly connected with each and every person who talked to her, smiling, laughing, and crying along the way. I watched my son who was kind enough to come with me light up when he learned about a new sport: ultimate frisbee, as he joined in with people tossing a disc to honor the deceased and one of his favorite sports.
I left the gathering still feeling sad, but also feeling more connected after catching up with people I probably wouldn’t have shared so much with if not for this awful circumstance.
One speaker at the service shared words of wisdom from her father: With everyone, we hold on to our memories of them until we get to see them again and then we make new memories. With the deceased, there aren’t opportunities to make new memories so we can only hold onto the ones we already made.
In this awful, strange, and bittersweet space created by death, people shared their memories and heard new ones – new stories to keep the memory of the deceased alive.
It would be nice if everyone who ever loved you would gather to celebrate you when you're alive to share how important you are to them, but that would never happen – it’s too honest, too real, and too vulnerable.
Sometimes, unfortunately, it takes an awful, strange, and bittersweet space to make that happen.
Thanks and for giving feedback on this.
Sorry for your loss, Brooke. What a bittersweet event. Hope your son is enjoying frisbee.