Death Cake: Poem + Story
/"I think we should have a Death Cake,” Mom said as we were talking about plans for Dad’s memorial next weekend. I laughed out loud as that was the most perfect idea.
Though he passed in June of 2020, we were only few months into the pandemic. It was pre-vaccinations, many places were shut down, and we were still confused as to whether or not it was okay to hug, even in times of extreme grief. So plans of a Celebration of Life, that we desperately needed to process our grief were indefinitely postponed.
But fast-forward a year and a half later: most of our loved ones are vaccinated, being in-person in certain situations is now normalized again, and our first-choice of for a memorial venue, Skipper's Smokehouse, has re-opened.
My parents were married on Valentine's Day in 1982, so they would be celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary this month. They ended up having a big party for their 30th anniversary and planned to do it again in 2022. So this month felt like a great time for many of their friends to gather again, though for a different reason.
Though both my Mom and I spent a year or more getting back on our feet after the traumatic loss of Dad, I'd say at this point, we're both in a much better mental health space to create this event with joy and love and vibes for a good time for all.
But this whole idea of a “Death Cake” has a slightly different origin. Let me explain.
Back in 2008, I needed to borrow my roommate's truck to move something one Sunday. She had already left the house to meet up with some friends at Tampa's most beloved dive bar, the Hub, and had taken her truck. So mom and I drove down there to get it.
At the time we lived next to a chef/baker, who had baked a delicious chocolate cake for some occasion, the details of which I don't remember. What I do remember it that it had "Congratulations" written on it in yellow icing. After a sudden death in the family, our neighbors had to leave town unexpectedly, the cake then destined to sit in their fridge going bad. Being kind neighbors who couldn't let that happen, they brought it over to Becky, my roommate, and offered it to her.
Fearing that with only two of us in the house, half of that cake still risked going bad in the fridge, Becky decided to bring it with her to the bar give pieces to whoever wanted it. Upon seeing the cake next to Becky’s white Russian, Mom and I decided to change our plans and have a drink with a piece of cake too.
When people would ask why we had this cake, we'd start off with a story about how someone died so we ended up with it. Maybe it was the lack of listening due to day-drinking or perhaps it was the mention of death that gets people flustered; either way we'd get immediate condolences. Then we'd have to explain that we didn't know the person who died and that it's okay, because, look we have cake!
The fact that it said "Congratulations" made the story all the better because eventually we started joking about, "Congratulations on your death," talking about how cool it would be if we could have celebrations instead of funerals when people pass over.
Shortly after I wrote this poem, entitled, Death Cake.
I don't find it to be one of my best, in fact, I'd say it’s below average, but still the story that it's connected to is a cherished moment I'll always remember. Here is how it’s written in my poem notebook. I can see that I made edits to the end and don't feel sold on any of the possible endings at the moment (though I did make a final edit today that I feel okay about).
I feel like that's kind of perfect for its meaning though.
As someone once said when it comes to writing, "Its all a draft until you die."
I guess that's true for living too.
You tell me:
What sticks out to you the most when you read this poem?
Do you have any cherished "carpe diem" moments that stick in your mind?
