Sports by Viagra Boys

I sat out on the front step alone as I listened to our quiet neighborhood. Squirrels and distant dogs barking. I noticed the sun shining and thought to myself, “how is that even possible?” How was it possible that the sun was shining when Alex and I witnessed our three-month-old son’s body be cremated less than 24 hours ago? How could the sun be shining when I had family still flying into Minneapolis any minute for William’s funeral? I put my face in my hands and let myself cry. Right there in my front yard for the neighbors across the street to see through their front windows; not to mention the ones walking their dogs on that Thursday morning. I realized those people would see me, but I almost hoped they would- to witness the impossible.

I walked inside to find my childhood best friend, Jenna, who had been one of my strongest supporters my entire life, but especially through my pregnancy and William’s life and death. Alex slept in the basement so Jenna and I could have a sleep over like we were six years old again, which was perfect. He got alone time, and Jenna and I got to fall asleep talking. When I saw her, we said good morning and she asked how I was feeling and what she could do to help that day. Then, Alex and my sister, Kenzie joined us in the dining room. It was time to start getting ready, and while we all did that, I sat down to do my makeup, and let some more tears fall.

We got to the funeral home and met all of our loved ones we asked to come and help set things up and it happened much quicker than I had expected. So, I took the time to get dressed in the bathroom. My mom, Jenna, and my boss and close friend, Katie came in to help me with anything from safety pins to buckling my shoes. I listened to the three of them chatting outside the stall as I got dressed and found myself smiling, realizing how loved I was. 

The memorial service and following open house at William’s Grandpa Bill and Grandma Mary’s were beautiful and perfect, and I promise to write about that and share it in the future, but this bizarre song has a story of its own I’m wanting to tell today.

Alex and I had a couple drinks at the open house, so Kenzie, my sister who lives in NYC and doesn’t drive much, graciously drove us home, even though I knew she was a little nervous about it. She talked with us the entire fifteen minutes home and had been the best temporary roommate for the two weeks before this. She had come into town for William’s three-month birthday and “Day of Love” (another day I will write about at some point) on the 25^th. Her flight that was scheduled for the morning of the 26^th got cancelled and she was scheduled to leave in the early afternoon of the 27^th, which was the day we met with William’s medical team to find out that all options to keep him alive had been exhausted. She was actually waiting in his hospital room with him as we found that out.

Kenzie was at William and our sides as we made plans for the next 24 hours- how we were going to say goodbye to our son and her nephew. She cried with us as his grandparents walked in the room and sobbed. She stood next to our older brother, Jeremy, as he baptized William, and she hugged us as she left to be with the others that stood in the circle around William’s bed only a couple hours before he died in that same room. 

Then, she stayed the following days as we picked the music for William’s funeral, and she helped my mom (who is not her mom- we share a dad) tape pictures to boards we displayed in the lobby of the funeral home. She was loving and kind and empathetic and experiencing the first few days of her own grief in our home alongside of Alex and me. Then, she drove us home after his funeral, the night before she flew back to NYC.

When we got home, I sat in the bathroom, starting to let the emotions of the day finally sink in and then I heard this song, “Sports” start playing. At first, I was confused and then rolled my eyes because Alex had played this song for me weeks before and then Kenzie a few days before. They seemed to bond over it- and I didn’t understand the infatuation. It’s not a deep meaningful song on the surface, it’s quite… different than the music I like, but I loved that they found common ground. The song’s volume got a bit louder, so I peeked out the door into the dining room to see what was happening. What I saw was my husband and my sister, over a decade apart in age, doing the of twist (or something like it) to this song. Both of their heads slowly swaying forward and down toward the floor then back up to the ceiling. They were softly smiling, but not interacting with each other aside from the dancing a few feet apart.

I laughed. The tears that were coming and those heavy emotions were still there, but in that moment, as I sat on the toilet and watched as they danced, the idea that we were going to be okay came into my mind. And I laughed some more while I took a short video on my phone before closing the door and letting them continue with their moment. 

This brief moment alone again was filled with gratitude. For Kenzie. For Alex. For them and the rest of our siblings and families, who came together that day. The people who came to help us set up. Every person who joined us that day to grieve as a community. The people who watched the service online and sent a text afterward to send their love from so many parts of the country. And of course, the most of that gratitude was felt for William. This little boy who changed me and my life. The sweet one who brought all those people together that day to be vulnerable together, even if they didn’t know the people sitting in front of or standing behind them. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness and what felt like joy as the song repeated, “Baseball… Basketball…Volleyball…” while also feeling the all-consuming pain of officially having said goodbye to William, who we had just met. I closed my eyes and cried again- ending the day the same way I started it, but with just as much love and hope as sadness and pain.

And this song by Viagra Boys, although very weird in my opinion, will always remind me of that night, sitting in the bathroom feeling every feeling I possibly could and surviving it all.