JP's Memorial Debacle

I heard about JP's suicide when my friend called me at work to deliver the news. It was the kind of news that sucks all the air out of your lungs and you immediately feel dizzy. He was a good college friend and a wonderful, caring person. We studied abroad in Australia together and he would give me pep talks when I started to feel homesick. I wrote this note to our mutual friends about his suicide, trying to make sense of it and my memorial for him...

I can't concentrate on anything else. But I am starting to feel better and get my sense of humor back. So, I thought we could use a few laughs and, of course, AS USUAL, I can accomplish this just by telling real-life Christy stories. I don’t even need to make anything up or tell jokes. No, I can accomplish this just by telling stories of the life that I lead on a daily basis. Remember, girls, as I have always said….

“You laugh, but this is my life. I'm actually LIVING it!”

I was going to have a glorious memorial for him at Red Rocks, complete with wine, photos, the mountains, the sunset and my tears. Perfect and life-affirming. Well, things don’t always go as planned…. So here is my meager attempt to get everyone smiling as I tell you a little story of the “JP Memorial Debacle.”

In a town far, far away, nestled at the base of the mountains, there lives a woman. She is stunningly beautiful, smart, charming, kind, EXTREMELY funny, freckled, etc (you know the rest) and recently missing four wisdom teeth. This woman has led a life of charm with some of the most wonderful people gracing her path; some of these people becoming lifelong friends that brighten her life and make her smile daily. And she to them. Actually, she more to them. She being so incredibly wonderful and all. Okay, okay, yes, I am talking about me….okay, I will just get on with the story.

I had my JP memorial last night. Actually, it was more along the lines of an Irish wake considering I finished half a bottle of Australian Rosemont Merlot and pigged out on Entenmann’s. Anyway, I went home after work, got a bite to eat and gathered the necessary items: photos of JP, your emails, a few inspirational poems, a wine uncorker, a glass and a picture of my dad on the Bench - in case I get pulled over. I proceeded to the bottle shop and picked up a bottle of Australian wine, a nice Merlot, good year. This seemed fitting. I uncorked it in the parking lot, poured myself half a glass and took a big swig. As an after thought, I looked around to make sure no one saw me do this. I decided to leave the bottle in the brown paper bag and contemplated just drinking the wine straight from the bottle to save time and effort. But I gathered myself, knowing that the brown paper bag alone would make me feel like a total whino; I didn’t need to spill it all down the front of me too.

So, I peeled out and headed straight for the mountains. Red Rocks State Park was calling to me, as it is known that you feel a little closer to heaven up there. Closer to heaven equaled closer to JP. I programmed the Yahoo! Map in my head to Red Rocks and threw her into fifth gear. The radio is blasting a melancholy Dave Matthews song - which made me immediately start crying - so I switched to Sarah McClachlan. Deciding that it was too early to open the flood gates, I settled on Genesis. Phil Collins is too cheesy and bad to be upsetting. It was a good decision.

As I neared the overpowering, overwhelming mountains and the deep crimson boulders jetting up from nowhere, my anticipation of the memorial was growing into excitement; to talk to JP, to see the beautiful surroundings, to polish off another glass of the wine, to be able to TURN OFF Genesis. Damn, that wine is good. Damn, I hate Genesis.

I see the exit up ahead and signal to get off (I am such a responsible driver). AAAAGGGGHHHH!! I guess I need to not only signal but CHECK my blind spot. Almost ran that car off the road. Oops. Better put the wine glass DOWN and put my driving glasses ON. (I know, I sound so unbelievably old, "driving glasses?") Okay, I am back on track. I take a left and kick it back into fifth gear. I am cruising, singing “Seu, Seu, Seusido” somewhat against my will, feeling the wind through my hair. OOOHHH, too cold, too cold. I roll up the window and check my rearview mirror. I check it again. And again. I am missing something. Ummm, uh-oh, WHERE THE HELL AM I? I am nowhere near the Red Rocks and am slinking into some little town that has “Karaoke Every Night” at Sue’s Tavern. I chuckle at the thought of our Sue singing karaoke. I believe her favorite song, “I Touch Myself”, would start a drunken brawl in that tavern. I turn around in the 7-11, mull over holding JP’s Memorial here, pour myself more wine and decide that JP deserves more than the 7-11. They are always out of hot dogs and accept forged checks. I know this because some delinquent forged my signature on a check there. 7-11 cashed it.

I roll out. I head back to where I came. HOW CAN I NOT FIND THE RED ROCKS?!! They tower over everything. I drive right past the rocks somehow and wind up on a mountain road next to Buffalo Bill’s grave. Hmmm, this could work but no place to park. Oh wait, there is a scenic view parking area. Perfect! I pull into the parking lot and get out. TOTAL DARKNESS. I can’t see a damn thing. No majestic view. No overwhelming feeling of heaven. No closer to JP. I totally missed the sunset…by almost an hour. I get back in my car and decide his memorial will take place inside of Goldie, with the heat on and without Genesis.

I start to cry, look at his photos, talk to him, read your letters and open the flood gates. WHUMMMMRRRRRRRR! BMMMMMPHHH! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? I look up to see a huge, ugly bus, the size of LB’s VW van freshman year, pulled up next to me and waiting for me to get in. The bus had more grit and grime than the hobos that hang out on my bike path. But to the bus’s credit, no belt keeping the hood down as was the case with LB’s jalopy. I had parked in the Metro Bus Parking Lot, the last stop until the next mountain town. Everyone on the bus was looking at me - my whino brown paper bag , tears and all. So, I did what any of you would of done and got the sam hell out of there! I left that bus in a cloud of gravel and snow and decided that I was just going home. Probably where I should have been the entire time.

It was much smoother at home. Everything was laid out. I was getting worked up again and starting to open the gates when the phone rings. I bet its my mom. Oh good! I would love to hear her sweet, kind voice. “Hello?” “Christianine? I am with AT&T and have an off…” I decided that enough was enough. I went out on my balcony, 10th floor, admired the view and told the sky what I wanted to say. I figured that even if JP wasn’t right there, someone would relay the message. They probably have voice mail in heaven nowadays. Then, I finished off the Irish Wake with a little food.

God, I am tired. All that driving. All that wine. All that bad music. Hmm, maybe I should suggest that karaoke tavern to my friends….might be fun.

Well, girls, it worked. I feel a little better today, a little more at peace and have a sense of closure, even if it didn’t go exactly as planned. My perfect, divine memorial in the mountains at sunset turned into a near-death collision, an exploration of some of the mountain civilization, and an all too close encounter with the “never-ever been washed” bus. Not to mention the friendly call from your favorite telecom salesman. But the wine was good. And so are my memories.

Now that I reflect, this memorial was more fitting than the original planned event. Life doesn’t always go the way that you expect. You can plan ‘til eternity and your path will still head on a course that is unknown to everyone, including yourself. To me, this is the excitement and burning passion of living; the quest to see what is around the next corner. Of course, it is not always what you had hoped or planned on. Sometimes, you don’t make it Red Rocks before sunset; sometimes you can’t find it at all; or you disappointingly never, ever in your life end up there. This is life and being alive. The good, the bad, the Genesis. If I had had my perfect wake, I would have never discovered Sue’s Tavern or that you can drink in your car at that bottle shop parking lot or that you MUST check your blind spot. Yes, this was the most fitting memorial for JP. He didn’t see the bus stop, the karaoke, the nasty 7-11; he only saw that he couldn't find Red Rocks.

This is how I will accept what he did and try to understand it. Some people can only see what they are missing, what went wrong. They don’t see that this took them to a new place or showed them new things. JP, I accept it and am trying to understand it. For the rest of us to remember, Red Rocks is not the end all. There are other beautiful places.

I love you all! Hope this made you laugh! And PLEASE, PLEASE always check your blind spot!