June 1, 2019

It wasn't until I was dating Bobby, my now-husband, that I understood the importance of attending wakes. His uncle had died, and in keeping with Old-School Catholic ways, there was going to be a wake with an open casket.

As a Jewess, this was an unthinkable concept to me, and I had no intention in the world of attending, no matter how much I loved Bobby.

"What?" he asked, stunned, when I told him that news. "You have to attend the wake. You always have to attend wakes. It's part of being in a relationship of any kind."

It was? This was a bona fide newsflash to me.

The last wake I'd attended was of a high school friend who'd died in a car accident our Junior year, and it was so awful an experience, I'd sworn off them forever.

But I was a teenager then, and maybe it was incumbent upon me to re-visit and adapt my thinking. Etiquette, after all, is a powerful force in life.

So I attended the wake --though I did keep my back to the casket at all times-- and, by evening's end, after having watched the deceased's sons and widow receive visitors all afternoon, I understood how right Bobby had been.

Having their loved ones --some whom they hadn't seen in decades-- come to the calling hours mattered deeply. Showing up was very, very important.

It's not exclusive to wakes, though. It matters in all kinds of other ways. The deal is, when you're in any kind of relationship --parent/child, sibling, husband/wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, boss/employee, friendship only-- showing up is the quintessential act of sustenance. It says, "You matter to me. You count the most."

And today, Recital Day, I got to witness that in abundance for sixty of my students who chose to participate. It was a Saturday, the quarters were snug and too warm, and although each guest was there to hear only his or her own participant's song, they sat through fourteen others, as well.

They showed up. And, in so doing, they made their little musicians glow with pride and delight.

I experienced it, too. My sweet Bobby was there from start to finish. He took students to their chairs while I handed out programs, straightened the room after each of the four shows, and schmoozed with parents --something that is so foreign to his nature as a shy guy-- as everyone milled around.

Because he loves me, he showed up and gave it his all. I couldn't have loved him more.

My mentor and True Mom, Ann, did, as well. She's going to be leaving for her lake house in two days, so she has many items on her To-do list. She is eighty-five, has arthritis in her knees, and she knows none of my students. Yet, there she was for the two o'clock performance.

She showed up because I matter to her more than all those other mitigating factors. Seeing her walk in was the highlight of the day.

Life's important moments --whether they're joyous or tragic-- are so much more meaningful and memorable when the people you love show up to share them with you.