Wakey Wakey

A friend of mine, the one recently diagnosed stage 4, had a Celebration of Life party a couple of weeks ago. It was like a wake, only he was there.

I think that’s the coolest thing ever.

Wakes are always awesome in theory, you don’t mope and mourn, you throw a party! And talk about the good times! Yay! But there’s always a little regret; “Why didn’t I tell them this while they were alive”. And the cheer is forced, a bit. WE ARE TOTALLY HAVING A GOOD TIME BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT HE WANTED EVEN THOUGH I AM LEGIT SAD AND THIS IS SHITTY AND LOOKING AT ALL OF YOU TRYING TO KEEP YOUR SHIT TOGETHER IS MAKING IT WORSE. Or the “HOW CAN YOU BE HAPPY WHEN OUR LOVED ONE IS DEAD” crowd that just sit in the corner and sigh. They’re miserable at other parties, too. But the idea of a wake is excellent. Yes. Talk about the good times. Talk about how this person changed your life. Talk about the stupid way they used to sit in a chair and lean allllll the way back until you swore they would fall but they never did. Until that one time. And remember that laugh? Oh god. We got in SO MUCH TROUBLE that night. And allow yourself to miss them, and be sad, and be okay with it, but celebrate who they were, and be thankful that your paths crossed for awhile.

The idea is rad. So why don’t we do this while people are still alive? Someone is diagnosed with something awful, someone is going through a really shitty experience, something happens that is changing their life forever in a bad way, then help it all by throwing a party for the people that love them, invite them all to come and drink and talk about how amazing this person is.

Chad’s party was a little weird at first, like you’d expect. It’s a wake? But he’s here? Um. Wow. Okay. So we just…um. Wow, I don’t know a lot of these people. But we played a game, and they did a really awesome thing with the game to remember us all by, and it was fun. We got to talk, we got to eat, and it was a really, really fantastic excuse to get people to go out of their way for an evening to come and say hello. And for Chad it was probably awesome to have all the visits done in one shot – I know for me, anyway, coordinating visits with people is tiring, and the visits are exhausting, but you really, really love them so it’s worth it. But it would be fantastic to just show up somewhere for a couple hours and have people able to come over to you instead of scheduling ten million things and cancel some of them at the last minute because there’s no spoons or shit happened, or whatever.

So yes. Do that for your people. Divorce, diagnosis, moving far away, whatever. Uplift and encourage. WHILE THEY ARE AROUND TO APPRECIATE IT. It’s better to say this stuff to them while they’re still alive, still present, still able to have their entire day made by a kind word.

When I was diagnosed, and this amazing community sprang up around me, I listened and read while my friends told each other about how they came to meet me, how important I was, how awesome I am. As expected? Total ego boost. But I learned a lot of things I don’t think I’d ever have known. A friend of mine credited me with getting her into our social scene, because I was the only one of the CreepyKids who came over to say hello, so she was encouraged that we all didn’t hate her and it was okay for her to be among us. Which is weird to me, because I didn’t consider myself really IN that crowd, and it would never have occurred to me that I might ever be a gatekeeper to such a thing. But she said I was, and I did, and she never forgot. And I would never have known that.

I don’t know that I’ll ever have such a party, but of course there will be a wake sort of thing. And while talking to Danielle this morning, we determined there’s going to be party favor bags. With a pair of my socks, some stickers, a tiny Japanese thing, and a container of sprinkles. All things I have too many of. All things I adore. All little pieces of me, who I am, and what I like. I think that’s an awesome idea. Once upon a time I made a Happy Box Exchange, and I made little boxes full of things that made me happy. Music, stickers, little toys, sprinkles, candy, delicious scents. Things like that. I didn’t get all of the participants to respond back in kind, but the ones that did, came in FORCE. A baking care package. Another box in kind of all kinds of music and stickers and things. It was a really uplifting experience. Happy surprises.

So imagine that, only instead of stickers and candy, it’s memories and feelings. That would be the best thing ever.

You should do it.

2 thoughts on “Wakey Wakey

  1. I love you so much. So very, very much.

    It was a living wake because I knew that once he died I would be in no shape to put together anything like a funeral or wake. It was also a little bit of giving him something to understand just how much he was loved. Like me, he sometimes doesn’t believe it and to see it in person is pretty damn amazing.

    So now, my story of how I met you . . .

    I don’t remember it. We worked at Stream and suddenly you were in my life and I adored you. I’m still super jealous of how amazeballs you are and just love you to pieces.

    Every post you write is a helpful insight and I use you as an inspiration for how I handle Chad’s diagnosis. With positive energy (when I can), a tiny amount of poor me/us, and a whole lot of humor that is pretty inappropriate.

    Thank you for being in our lives.

  2. I fell in love with you the first time I met you, also at Stream. I’m starting to think that Stream should have its own dating app. I pursued you like the awkward, fat, nerdy boy panting after the homecoming queen in a bad high school movie, and you accepted my fawning adoration with grace and poise, letting me down easy and still making me feel like I mattered to you. You introduced me to your friends who were WAY cooler than me, and I acted like a jackass, but you forgave me and smoothed it over with your actually cool friends. Over the years, we would touch base; Me: “Do you remember me at all?” You: “Heck yeah I do! You’re ossim!” Me: *snoopy happy dances her way through another year of crap, confident in your love*. You are a gift, and a treasure. I know hearing that makes you uncomfortable but would you please, just for me, accept my adoration a little while longer? Also, your living wake should totally be a potluck. Because…food and booze. If you ask me nicely, I’ll bring baklava. If you don’t ask me nicely, I’ll bring stale donuts.
    Either way, I’ll be there with bells on. Literally.

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