My sister’s celebration of life was 99 days after she died. I selfishly pushed for a date around that timeframe, because it was the next time I could be home. It served other purposes, too. Firstly, none of us were ready or able to do something in those first few weeks. Her only “service” was a very, very small set of invites to her closest friends to say their farewells, but we had no funeral or formal event before her cremation. Additionally, she and her partner have many friends from online gaming communities who live all across the country; this gave people enough forewarning to arrange for travel. (I’m gratified to say half a dozen people did make the long, expensive journeys.)
Slowly over the three months of time, our parents, her partner, and I worked on small pieces of the puzzle. We started from an important place: my sister did not like big, formal, or stuffy events. Her celebration of life should reflect her, and therefore we wanted it to be laid back, simple, and fun. In May, we all agreed to this. In June, we continued to agree on this. In July, this was still the plan, but there were some inklings that it was getting a little out of the narrow lane we had defined. In the August lead-up to the celebration, I spent a lot of emotional energy on trying to bridge the growing chasm between what my sister’s partner wanted and what our mom wanted.
With the benefit of retrospection, I can say with certainty that my sister’s partner wanted to honor the person my sister was at the moment she left this world. He wanted to throw a low-key event that she would have enjoyed attending. Our mom, in contrast, wanted an event that showcased every facet of who my sister had ever been. She wanted a celebration of life and a funeral and a memorial and a museum-like atmosphere all rolled into one. These hugely different intentions are indicative of how mismatched many parts of this grief journey have been among the four of us. If anyone ever asks me for advice on navigating this part of life, I will definitely have recommendations borne from the bumps along our way.
I will admit, I ultimately called in a ringer. My best friend, who cares a lot about making things aesthetically pleasing, has a lot of experience in conflict resolution, and is unabashedly on team Sarah, flew across the country to be there to help. With mom’s permission, I set her up to be an event coordinator of sorts, freeing up the family from having to be in charge of a lot of things. I made sure mom explained her vision to my friend, and I made sure I explained in private the nuances of what would and would not be acceptable. My best friend also knows my sister’s partner, because I brought him into a social fold back in July, so she knew and cared about expending energy to not only meet our mom’s demands but also to execute as much of his desires as possible. Without her there, I would have absolutely burned myself out trying to prevent conflict.
Part of our mom’s vision included bringing box after box after box of what I took to calling artifacts or relics. Objects from throughout my sister’s life. She wanted them out on display for people to look at. My sister’s partner was upset by this, especially stressed that this much stuff would create a physically oppressive atmosphere and chase people away quickly. We both agreed that my sister would have been mortified to see this, too. But the thing I’ve learned about family dynamics is they only get exacerbated when you add grief. There would be no dissuading mom.
Another part of mom’s vision was to have 100 printed, framed photos, representing the 100 days since she died. Mom had told me a few days earlier, and when she asked me if it was crazy, I told her, “We throw these events to contend with difficult milestones because this is how we make meaning and find something approximating peace for ourselves.” I meant it then, and I meant it now. I did not know, however, that mom had not run any of this by my sister’s partner. I also did not know that the photos were sometimes quite large. So we were all surprised when the photos got unloaded, and this was also an upsetting moment for my sister’s partner.
Somehow, my best friend used her myriad skills to help mom edit the number of things and create an event that I am so, so relieved to say was a nearly ideal blend of the expectations everyone had, as divergent as they were. Mom had a moment at the beginning to say some short words before the event evolved into an outdoor hang out. The space we picked was large enough and had enough picnic tables that we were able to create spaces for eating, hanging out, and remembrance. We spread photos throughout the venue, so no one was confronted with too many photos at once. The catered BBQ food was delicious, and people noticed and appreciated the candies and sides we brought or made specifically because they were all emblematic of my sister. Our mom got the peaceful satisfaction of seeing people peruse the history of my sister’s life and learn something new about her through them. I had the chance to gift people the pins I designed as mementos of her essence. My sister’s partner got to see the friends around him in his life that were showing up for him, again and again. Everyone was able to come together and share stories and let a little bit of the pressure of their grief out, though it also brought back up pain that many had worked on pushing aside.
Was it perfect? I don’t even know how to answer that, especially for an event I desperately wished we were not throwing, because I wanted to undo the tragedy that precipitated it. But it was lovely, it was an important moment in this sad timeline, and there was not a dramafest. So I am going to consider it a huge success.
Unmoored Sister 