The Best Party.

American Gothic - Caro Edition

Though he would never admit it to anyone willingly, my husband can be a bit of a sentimentalist.

Even after more than thirteen years, two kids and a cancer - there are still days when he surprises me.  Today became one of those days when Hunky Hubby sent me a quote by Bill Murray from a Saturday Night Live interview which made me stop in my tracks and instantly brought tears to both of our eyes. 

Now, sentiment tends to be contagious  - and because I won't be able to sleep tonight until I make sense of what this story means to me - It's apparently time to pull on my writing pants (Oh, It's a thing).  So hold tight and thanks in advance for being the world's most affordable therapists.

"Gilda got married and went away. None of us saw her anymore. There was one good thing: Laraine had a party one night, a great party at her house. And I ended up being the disk jockey. She just had forty-fives, and not that many, so you really had to work the music end of it. There was a collection of like the funniest people in the world at this party. Somehow Sam Kinison sticks in my brain. The whole Monty Python group was there, most of us from the show, a lot of other funny people, and Gilda. Gilda showed up and she’d already had cancer and gone into remission and then had it again, I guess. Anyway she was slim. We hadn’t seen her in a long time. And she started doing, “I’ve got to go,” and she was just going to leave, and I was like, “Going to leave?” It felt like she was going to really leave forever.

Twins-ies.  

So we started carrying her around, in a way that we could only do with her. We carried her up and down the stairs, around the house, repeatedly, for a long time, until I was exhausted. Then Danny did it for a while. Then I did it again. We just kept carrying her; we did it in teams. We kept carrying her around, but like upside down, every which way—over your shoulder and under your arm, carrying her like luggage. And that went on for more than an hour—maybe an hour and a half—just carrying her around and saying, “She’s leaving! This could be it! Now come on, this could be the last time we see her. Gilda’s leaving, and remember that she was very sick—hello?”

We worked all aspects of it, but it started with just, “She’s leaving, I don’t know if you’ve said good-bye to her.” And we said good-bye to the same people ten, twenty times, you know. And because these people were really funny, every person we’d drag her up to would just do like five minutes on her, with Gilda upside down in this sort of tortured position, which she absolutely loved. She was laughing so hard we could have lost her right then and there.

It was just one of the best parties I’ve ever been to in my life. I’ll always remember it. It was the last time I saw her.”

Any day Bret wears a tutu is a good day.

This.  If there has been a more perfect expression of pure love and friendship - I've not heard it.  

As I read these words it brings me back to the days of my own precious farewell parties and the people in my life who have refused to allow me to slip quietly into the night.  They have held me as I've said my  goodbye's - to a life I once believed I would lead and a body which unexpectedly betrayed.  And somehow, through the darkest of times, they kept me laughing - sometimes hysterically and while in awkward positions (looking at you here, Ali).  

There is no way to know exactly when we will walk out those doors for the last time -  but we can choose who is invited to the party.  Though we may not see each other as often as we like, I am ever so thankful for the amazing people who keep the party going in sickness and in health.  There is no question, I could not do this without you.

Especially a certain hunky hubby who reminds me every day that life is worth fighting for.  I love you so.

"The goal is to live a full productive life even with all that ambiguity.  No matter what happens, whether the cancer never flares up again or whether you die, the important thing is that the days that you have had - you will have lived."  

~ Gilda Radner