Memorials and Birthdays
I didn’t go to Tracey’s memorial last weekend.
Instead, I scrolled through dozens of comments on Facebook. Friends, family, students, and admirers shared their heartfelt feelings. Some more elaborated comments reminisced on fun occasions, moments of learning, bonding over artistic projects, and, of course, Tracey’s impact on people’s lives.
All I could bring myself to write on that post was “We will miss you, Tracey.”
I couldn’t stop thinking that I had prepared something special to say about Tracey at the last festival in November. I had made award trophies for the team members who were celebrating five years with us and since this was a late addition to the schedule, we agreed to do it whenever CeCe, our Entertainment Director, could fit us in. I got the heads up from CeCe that we could go on in an hour, so I texted all team members asking them to meet me by the main stage. On my notes app, I prepared a little paragraph about each one of them highlighting their talents and thanking them for sticking with us.
“Got your text. I’m not on site now. Bringing the van over around 4:15 pm. I can’t make it to the announcement.” Tracey responded.
I replied “Okii”, put the blue box containing her award aside, and moved on with the show.
When Tracey and I met again in January, we talked about strategies for this year. I thanked her. I gave her a hug before closing my car’s trunk, fully loaded to the ceiling with our giant Ukranian lady puppet, Olena. As I was driving away I remembered that her award was still at the office. Or was it at the storage? Did I lose track of it? “I’ll make a plan,” I thought, but in the middle of my departure from FusionFest and her hospital admission, the plan was never put into action.
When Terry mentioned the memorial, I cringed inside. My heart sank with the thought that I missed my chance to let her know how much I admired her. “I am going to try to make it,” I texted back, but I couldn’t make sense of showing up to her memorial. I was frozen by regret.
I managed to close my eyes and picture her face and smile. I saw her straight blonde hair framing her delicate face and remembered the sound of her voice when she was teaching us how to make a finger puppet about a year ago.
I bowed my head and said under my breath “We miss you already, Tracey.”
I realized that I have never attended a Memorial or a Celebration of Life.
Before you think I’m a horrible person, hear me out: This is not part of my culture.
Raised in the south of Brazil, a country and region with strong ties with the catholic church, everything related to death is very low-key. There’s the funeral and then seven days later there’s a mass service called “Seventh Day Mass”. It’s very simple. Not that I have attended many, but the ones I have attended looked like a regular mass service, but with a mention of the person’s passing. Also very low-key in the Buddhist tradition that my grandmother was part of.
Before moving to the US, Hollywood had already given me a good idea of how things are done here, especially on the day of the funeral. The tradition, I understood from the movies I watched, was for everyone to go to the closest family member’s house with casseroles, eat, hang out, and drink whiskey in a room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Because food is one of my favorite love languages, this tradition agreed with me right away. Not that memorials don’t agree with me — again, don’t get me wrong — I’ve seen pictures and videos and they look absolutely amazing and heartfelt. A big celebration of the person’s accomplishments, with live music, more food, friends and family paying their honors on the microphone, sometimes wearing clothes in matching colors or custom t-shirts made especially for the occasion, hugs, tears, and the whole village coming together to show their love and support to the ones who stayed. Even without experiencing it, I know it’s beautiful.
I regret not attending Tracey’s memorial, but not going that day got me thinking about this:
Why do we wait for special days to say the most beautiful things about someone we care about? It can be a distant friend, a family member, someone we work with, someone we admire from afar, or even that person who is right by our side.
Why are we conditioned to only writing “Happy Birthday” on someone’s Facebook timeline on their birthdays, instead of taking the time to develop a little more?
No judgment here.
When I see that I don’t have time to send someone more than two words, I don’t even say anything, so I don’t know what’s worse.
I’m worse, probably.
What I am challenging myself to do is say, more often, beautiful things to the people around me. To tickle them with a memory from way back then, to say how awesome I think they are, to wish them good luck on a new endeavor, but also to let them know that no matter what, I’ll be here.
Life is busy. We are all busy. The hustle and the juggling of hats are real, especially in this society, but I would like to think that death cannot be the only thing making me stop to reflect on a person’s impact on my life.
What do you think? Can we choose two people to show some extra love this week?
If you already do that, like so many of my beautiful friends, who are always amazing at expressing their support and friendship, then I hope I get to learn from you too. ❤
Before I go, I’d like to share this new piece by my bff Alex Moonsang. It’s called reincarnation.
May your day and week be light and fun,
Thali
