A week ago, I hosted a party called DeathFest V (5) to honor the life Tony lived and the person he was. Tony loved revelry with all the people he loved. Even though the party had a dark name, gathering together was at the center of the event.
As I built the invite list, I tried to make sure the different groups from our lives were included. I invited our immediate families, our friends from high school, a few of my sorority sisters, and our neighborhood crew. Not everyone invited had been Tony’s best friend; some of them hadn’t had time to get to know him but have supported me in the aftermath. I also consulted the kids and made sure they were able to invite a few of their key friends. It was important to me that DeathFest also provided them with a way to feel supported with their friends. In all, over 90 people came to the party throughout the day.
DeathFest V started in the afternoon. As people trickled in, we began setting up a cornhole tournament. We drew names to create teams, giving people a chance to get to know each other. My youngest ended up on the 2nd place team and he was so excited. In the background, my 8-hour curated playlist ranged from Highway to Hell to Ghostbusters. After the tournament, it was time to eat. My dad and I had prepped and smoked a bunch of BBQ. Throughout the day, I had a chance to make the rounds, get a hug and talk to everyone. It was refreshing to share a few stories and even shed a few tears with our friends.
As night fell, many people had to go home since it was Sunday. The crowd got smaller and a circle formed around the firepit. We changed the music to Eric Church. It was at this point when I finally sat down. This was how all our daytime shenanigans ended when we had parties. The fire pit lights, Eric Church plays, and glasses of wine or whiskey are poured. When Holdin’ My Own played, there wasn’t a dry eye on the patio. It’s one of the songs I played at his funeral and while it hurts to hear it, we also couldn’t bring ourselves to turn it off.
The crowd got smaller and smaller as the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning. It was all perfect. Hosting the party gave me something positive to focus on in the days leading up to his death anniversary instead of feeling anxious. I found myself looking around at the festivities thinking about how much he would have loved it. It was great to watch my kids sign up for cornhole then play outside with each other’s friends for the rest of day.
I woke up the next morning, which was the actual anniversary of his death, with full heart. I will always miss his love here on earth but it was so good to remember him out loud and with others.
