Remembering Alex

Note: This entry contains themes of death, as well as jokes and dark humour about the deceased. It is all in good fun, and the deceased mentioned would have found these jokes to be more than humorous. Please do not think that I am in any way making fun of or mocking the deceased. This is a respect post, in remembering a man who was loved by everyone he came into contact with, (possibly excluding a few annoying customers...) 

What a way to begin my blog. Though it may sound like a very broad topic, and perhaps a very early mid-life crisis coming from someone who is only 17, life and death has become a much more prevalent theme in my life, perhaps far more than it should be. Part of me is grateful for having experienced such emotions so early in my life, maybe it will allow me to realise my feelings better later in life when I eventually experience another loss, but right now, it does truly hurt. The contemplation I believe stems from my newfound realisation that, as cheesy as it sounds, life is short and unforgiving. Time does not wait for you to catch up, it passes by relentlessly. Time is a brutal killer, and to be ahead of it is an utter blessing.

Recently, my life has been nothing short of utter chaos. Just yesterday, I attended the funeral of my favourite manager, Alex. Alex loved his debates, his dark humour, but most importantly, the muppets. To be honest, it was the first funeral I’ve been to in which I have truly cared for the person in the coffin, so as you can imagine, I was a bit upset about it. Yeah. When I say a bit upset, I mean I was sobbing the whole time, though Alex (being the man of dark humour he is) probably would have turned in his grave if he found out we had a normal reception for him. So thankfully, this reception was possibly the last thing I would have expected a funeral to be.

When we arrived at the venue, (after two busses and a train, which I took with two work colleagues and one of their partners), the last thing we had expected was for the funeral director to be handing out pin badges to put on for the reception. There were a few different options, and as I looked down into the box of pins to choose one, I was faced with what seemed hundreds of Kermit the Frogs, Animals, Fozzie Bears and Sam Eagles. Of course we were being given muppets characters’ faces to adorn ourselves with, I thought, before aptly choosing an Animal pin badge and attaching it to my trenchcoat. As I looked around, all I could see were the smiles that the muppets had brought people, the smiles Alex would loved to have seen. This moment was when I realised, this was going to be no normal funeral. This was going to be just as fun as Alex was in his life.

Now, the reception itself was a mixture of crying with grief and laughing at all of the silly little whims that just felt so ‘Alex’. Giggles and nods of agreement infected the room as jokes about Alex’s love for bacon, his hour long bathroom breaks, and his stubborn nature were told by his family and friends, who seemed to me as though they were trying to stay as strong as they possibly could through the readings. One reading that I found to be incredibly drab was the funeral directors. So obviously scripted, as one might expect from someone who never actually knew the deceased person, but what annoyed me most was when she began to say; “Now join me in reading the lord’s prayer.” Seriously? I thought. I mean, seriously. Alex was likely the least religious person I knew. Again, he loved a debate, and if there is one non-silly topic he loved to debate, it was religion. The funny thing is, the moment I heard those words from the funeral directors mouth, I heard behind me a chorus of sighs, followed by a cacophonous, and very bored sounding, recitement of the lord’s prayer from the rows of sitting and standing people in the cramped chapel.  

 Despite the situation, the room was filled with smiles. Even in his death, Alex is one of the funniest people I know. We were each given little cards, information packs (though that makes it sound all too exciting) and butterflies on a stick to wave as Alex was carried down the aisle. Naturally, on the very back of the information pack, was a handwritten note from Alex himself; “ps. I still don’t regret all the bacon. Totally worth it!”  He then went on to pass away due to a heart attack at just 43.

After the service, we all went outside, where shitty little bubble machines were loaded up with liquid so that bubbles would fill the surrounding area. Strange, I thought, that they had two kids’ bubble machines (likely from smith’s toy superstore) infecting the outside area with their obnoxious brightness. Maybe Alex secretly loved bubbles? Or maybe it was customary at a funeral. Regardless, the moment we got outside, I gave and received countless hugs, some more meaningful than others, but they all made me feel more at peace with his passing. It was then that I truly realised, Alex would have loved his memorial service.

The wake was held in a pub about a 40 minute drive away from the chapel. For a while, me and the party of people I got on the train with contemplated whether we wanted to go or not. Yes, we wanted to continue to respect Alex’s life, but the sheer amount of people that would be crammed into a small pub put us off slightly. Eventually, I brought up the idea that I’d much rather regret going to the wake than regret not going to the wake, and so, after a short kerfuffle with who would be getting in who’s car to get to the pub, we went to the wake. As suspected, it was packed full of people.

What drew me in to go and be social was the prospect of free food and drink inside. Of course, I lapped up the opportunity for some free food, (I hadn’t yet eaten, and it was already mid-afternoon) because after all, what would Alex do? This is a question I have found myself asking more often lately. While waiting for the free food, I noticed some cards on the table, each one with Alex’s favourite debate topics. A smile was brought to my face again as I noted a few that I had had with him; “Does a pie need a lid to be called a pie?” “Should stew be classed as a soup or a salad?” This debate in particular, is one that I am 90% sure I started with him.

I first introduced him to this debate at work, on a particularly boring day, as a way to pass the time. The debate originally stated; “If all foods had to be put into the categories of ‘soup’, ‘salad’ or ‘sandwich’, where would you put certain foods and why?” This was my topic for him, and I had no idea that it had spiralled so far within his family and friends outside of work until seeing it written there on the card. In fact, Alex was so pleased with this topic of debate that he added his own 4^th category; ‘snack’. A snack included anything that was not a full meal, simple ingredients on their own. This debate led to a few playful arguments between us, something I have severely come to miss. Strangely, another thing that I have come to miss with Alex out of my life, is his constant desire for one of my perfect cups of tea. I’d like to be modest about my tea, but unfortunately it is simply too good to be modest about. I make a bloody good tea, and Alex thought so too. Whenever he turned to me with a cheeky smile on his face, I knew he was going to ask me to make him another cup. Sometimes it was comments like “You know Nick, I’m quite thirsty…” or “You know what would go really well with this biscuit?” that prompted the tea making ritual. Regardless of how Alex asked for another Nick tea, I made him one every time without hesitation. Sometimes I’d make my own silly joke back, suggesting he’d have to make his own, but he knew I would make him one anyway. I can’t make a regular cup of tea now without thinking of Alex. I can’t listen to the pussycat dolls without thinking about Alex. I can’t watch a Monster High movie without thinking about Alex. I’m sure the feeling will fade in time, but I can’t help but think myself selfish for allowing him to be on my mind so often. Consumed by grief, is what I feel, but why, when I am not his family and saw him only once a week on Saturdays?

My work life is a somewhat tricky topic now. A week Alex passed, I was ‘let go’ from my job for reasons entirely out of my control. I was in tears, but Alex was right at my side to aid me. It was then that I found out that he solely had tried to save my job, running around on the previous day to try and sort things out for me, to make things right again. Unfortunately, that was unable to happen, and this marked the final time I ever saw Alex. At least I can be pleased that I finalised our last meeting with a hug and a “It was lovely to work with you”, but I wish I had accepted that tea he had offered to make me now. An Alex tea was a rarity. If my tea is perfect, his is legendary. I wish I had had one more taste of that legendary tea. And what timing, for his passing to be a week after my job loss, because he promised me he’d give me a glowing reference to try and get a new job. I still haven’t received one, Alex.