On February 11th I was a part of the Pink Tie Ball for the third year in a row. The Pink Tie Ball is a fundraising event that supports Susan G. Komen of Michigan. The event was the thought-child of Denise, my friend and mentor mentioned in a few posts early 2016. Out of a selfish act, Denise was no longer in our lives to lead the event to its usual success, but the committee decided to join forces, add a few new members, and provide the community with an awesome evening to honor the memory that was Denise Bohn.
The ball is something I have looked forward to in the past. It’s a night to get all dressed up (because what woman doesn’t want to don a gown and get her hair down to relive her prom days?) and dance the night away all in the name of charity. This year, though, I was on the fence with my feelings.
Part of me couldn’t wait to regain my role as head decorator for the event. I also was excited to take on the task to lead the organization of the event — seating chart, table placements, room setup, etc. I wanted to go above and beyond to make my friend’s memory proud.
Another part of me wished I could walk away. The pain was still too fresh, the heartache still too vivid. I almost said no.
The former won out.
It has been a few days now since the event and I’m not sure if I made the right decision. My heart hurts so much. I’ve cried almost every night since that Saturday and I don’t see the fountain drying any time soon…
Wilbur and I left the event following dinner. The program, though understandably emotional, was too much. What was meant to be a half hour of some research on breast cancer, a survivor’s inspirational story, and a little homage to Denise turned into an hour of statistical slides, heartbreaking “tear-fest” (I do not mean this in a critical manner), and two videos that only cemented the knowledge of how awesome Denise truly was and how much this community misses her presence. By the time the program finally ended, every Kleenex bag I placed at each of the 238 table seats was opened and used. I was visibly shaking. I could feel myself eyeing the door, wanting to flee rather than sit in a room that held so many memories. Even the food, now cold, couldn’t calm me.
I was absolutely and utterly emotionally drained.
So after hurriedly eating the less-than-desirable entree and attempting to gather my composure long enough to enjoy my favorite part of the night, the photo booth, I turned to Wilbur, and asked, “Would it be lame of me to say I want to leave?”
“Are you sure? It’s only 9’o’clock.”
I remember glancing into the dance hall, seeing members of the committee laughing and having fun. I swallowed and nodded my head. And so, we left.
So now I’ll ask you, is it lame for me to say that walking out that door gave me more closure than the event as a whole? Perhaps its because I was so horrified with how I handled the evening, that walking out gave me some peace that my bad vibes were no longer filling a space that should be of love and warmth. Perhaps its because I knew deep down I shouldn’t have been a part of the committee to begin with, because I’ve still to find my own version of goodbye to Denise.
I still do not feel complete closure, and I’m starting to think I never will. I’m that type of person who analyzes and uses logic in most situations. I believe there is always a reason for something to occur.
In this situation, though, I see no reason for Denise to be gone. I don’t understand the point in it all.
I’m wrestling with these thoughts a lot this month, and thought if I shared my pain and confusion, someone might stumble upon this post and be able to give me some pointers. I’m all ears on ways to finally say goodbye to my friend and move forward from her loss…