The Cupcake Lessons

Here Are the Rules For Behavior On the Anniversary of the Death of a Favorite One:

1. Remember that you knew the moment you met him that he was you  in 75 year-old-man form and that he made those ten years you knew him some of the most worthwhile and comforting and wonderful times of your life.
2. Remind yourself that it is TOTALLY FINE to feel more filled with nauseous loss than gratitude when you realize again that you’ll never get to commiserate about how similarly you felt about your mothers.
3. Think about that time he told you about what it was like to be in the War and how he admitted to you that it was the most alive he had ever felt before or since and how you both left that conversation feeling like the luckiest people on earth to have a friend to share such big things with.
4. Picture his face when he read his son’s poems out loud.
5. Sit for a bit and, even though it makes you the saddest, reconstruct the countless times he validated your view.
6. Just think that you were lucky to have known someone who could reminisce about East Coast humidity as if it were the devil and remind you that your West Coast sunshine was, at the very least, holy.
7. Conjure up how comforting it felt to watch him make his way through his day, putting things in order, creating grace.
8. Don’t forget that he knew you adored him and that you kind of liked watching steam come out of his ears when he talked about George Bush.
9. Think about how often you agreed and how this gave you fuel to move forward—how, looking back, you realize it might have been him that kept you anchored as you set sail into openheartedness.
10.Give some praise for the word “supper” and the worthiness of dressing in a button down shirt and slacks for the evening and drill it into your heart that it is possible you haven’t lost him while you ignore his voice when he tells you you’re being too corny for thinking this is all an odd dream for having turned out this way.

The Only Thing I Don’t Agree With Is the Fact That You Had To Go,
Andrea of the Afterlife

10 Comments on "The Cupcake Lessons"

  1. We only borrow each other.

  2. candace says:

    Beautiful testament for a friend. As time passes, I get a stronger and stronger sense that those who have passed are just a thin curtain away. I think that they are so present that we don’t pay attention…they are like the air around us…always there…always offering their love and encouragement.

  3. Cupcake Murphy Cupcake Murphy says:

    I wish we could keep them. I wish I could sit down and have a chat with the air around me.

  4. The Zadge says:

    Can I reserve your services now to be the lead speaker at my funeral? Because damn, woman, you have a way with words.

    Oh, and Post Script? East Coast humidity is even more evil than Newt. I swear.

  5. The Zadge says:

    Oh, and Post Post Script? Another fab photo!

    • Cupcake Murphy says:

      Thank you! Arches National Park in Utah. It was approximately 5 million degrees when I took this. No humidity for miles.

  6. LT says:

    That picture. So pure.

  7. The picture makes me ache, in a good way. Strangely, I honored/celebrated/ mourned my Dad on January 29. He was 75, too. I always think he exists in nature every time spring comes to New England. Every bird I hear and violet that grows reminds me of him.

  8. Patty says:

    I wish Robert could read what you wrote about him.