In one of my favorite songs, Ron Pope sings, “There was a moment standing with my younger brother. As the radio played, we both sang along. And I thought brother I’m so thankful for this memory. Cause it’s all you’ll carry with you when I’m gone”.
I wept in the car tonight as this lyric was playing on Spotify, through the car speakers. I had just entered Gunnison County.
I pictured Aaron and I in the truck, terribly belting out a line from some country song. I pictured Josh and I replacing all song lyrics with “poop” on our countless roadtrips between the U.P. and home. I pictured Adam along for the ride in both, always up for raisin’ a little hell.
The chorus rings, “Raise your hands, celebrate with me. Raise your voice and sing along, oh please. Raise your glass, cause we all could use a drink sometimes. Celebrate, life is fine”.
I’ve heard this chorus a thousand times, but as I listened tonight I thought about celebrating Josh and Annie’s wedding this weekend and how funky it felt to be celebrating anything right now. How weird it felt to be so filled with love and life when I’ve felt nothing but darkness lately.
I remembered looking at photos of all of our family members that have passed and couldn’t be at this sweet ceremony. They were displayed on a table in the foyer, with a sweet sentiment about how they were all here in spirit.
I remembered feeling your weight and thinking about how you won’t ever be at another wedding.
This song really hit me tonight.
We can’t celebrate. I mean how can we possibly celebrate amidst the chaos?
Life isn’t fine. Look around.
But, I still managed to celebrate. Didn’t I?
Maybe we can celebrate? Just a little. Even when we’re hurting.