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Me and Lance at 40
Oct. 26th, 2007 06:29 amI don't want to be maudlin or go for an easy emotional cliché. But my 40th birthday party will always be linked to Lance's death. I don't think that's awful (though Lance's death is certainly awful)… life and death intertwined… a milestone birthday and confrontation with mortality… It's so fucking poetic that it would seem contrived if you tried to use it for a short story or something.
Lance died at 40 and I was celebrating my 40th. Most of the people there were in a good party mood, part of the party was somber. Some folks had fun despite themselves and then felt guilty. Mourning is a tricky thing filled with the potential for self-hate.
As I mentioned, I got the news as I was shutting down the computer as I left my house for the party. In the car ride over, I got a call and a text. I freaked out a little asking how I should deal. Should I bring it up? What if I knew they didn't know? Should I turn my party into a memorial?
I got good advice from my people. Try to have a fun party. Don't bring it up but talk to people if they do. Let party guests tell each other and do what they need to do. We have the rest of our lives to mourn.
Many of the people there who knew Lance hung out with each other, but they probably would have done that anyway. I couldn't tell if they were mourning or just having a mini Epicenter reunion. Occasionally someone would come up to me and I could see they were teary and red-eyed. We'd acknowledge the obvious, and try to smile. We'd show some muted and socially awkward signs that we were glad the other person was alive and in our lives. Then we'd move on.
I felt bad the next day when I found out a few people, that I assumed knew, didn't. I have many different social scenes in my life and they have different styles of mourning.. Some would have been loud and aggressive, trying to make the world stop with their outward pain. The old Epicenter crowd is quieter, more stoic, less likely to call attention to themselves. I'm sure many people at the party had no idea that others there had just gotten very bad news.
The advice I got was good even if it didn't stop my own mixed feelings from creeping in. We do have the rest of our lives to mourn our dead. A San Francisco memorial for Lance is being organized and that will be a better place to remember him. Weirdly though, it was kind of an honor to share my 40th with Lance's memory.
I'm not sure I did him exactly right by him. Should I have said something from the stage? Had a moment of silence? But he was taking space in the hearts of all of us who knew him, publicly acknowledged or not. I'm glad I was around those folks. Even if my focus was elsewhere, it was comforting to look around and see other folks with their own internal struggles of mourning vs. celebrating written lightly on their faces, decipherable only to the other people who shared the pain.
Lance died at 40 and I was celebrating my 40th. Most of the people there were in a good party mood, part of the party was somber. Some folks had fun despite themselves and then felt guilty. Mourning is a tricky thing filled with the potential for self-hate.
As I mentioned, I got the news as I was shutting down the computer as I left my house for the party. In the car ride over, I got a call and a text. I freaked out a little asking how I should deal. Should I bring it up? What if I knew they didn't know? Should I turn my party into a memorial?
I got good advice from my people. Try to have a fun party. Don't bring it up but talk to people if they do. Let party guests tell each other and do what they need to do. We have the rest of our lives to mourn.
Many of the people there who knew Lance hung out with each other, but they probably would have done that anyway. I couldn't tell if they were mourning or just having a mini Epicenter reunion. Occasionally someone would come up to me and I could see they were teary and red-eyed. We'd acknowledge the obvious, and try to smile. We'd show some muted and socially awkward signs that we were glad the other person was alive and in our lives. Then we'd move on.
I felt bad the next day when I found out a few people, that I assumed knew, didn't. I have many different social scenes in my life and they have different styles of mourning.. Some would have been loud and aggressive, trying to make the world stop with their outward pain. The old Epicenter crowd is quieter, more stoic, less likely to call attention to themselves. I'm sure many people at the party had no idea that others there had just gotten very bad news.
The advice I got was good even if it didn't stop my own mixed feelings from creeping in. We do have the rest of our lives to mourn our dead. A San Francisco memorial for Lance is being organized and that will be a better place to remember him. Weirdly though, it was kind of an honor to share my 40th with Lance's memory.
I'm not sure I did him exactly right by him. Should I have said something from the stage? Had a moment of silence? But he was taking space in the hearts of all of us who knew him, publicly acknowledged or not. I'm glad I was around those folks. Even if my focus was elsewhere, it was comforting to look around and see other folks with their own internal struggles of mourning vs. celebrating written lightly on their faces, decipherable only to the other people who shared the pain.
