We sat down to eat and my brother’s brightly colored plaid socks peaked out from under his dress pants as if to say a cheery “hello”.
It was my father’s birthday and my siblings, mother, and I had surprised my dad by all meeting near where my brother worked so as to have one last family picnic before my parent’s big move to the Central Coast. (It turns out, that picnic would serve as our last family meal altogether.)
John had just started working for the Federal Defender’s Court in Sacramento and couldn’t stray too far from the office building as parking and time away for lunch was limited. When I was first planning the last minute get together, he told me to just get the girls together with my mom and dad without him because there were too many complicated factors, but I was adamant that he come.
It wasn’t an option. It would feel too weird without him.
So I found a place called “Dad’s” that was a two minute walk from a park we could all conveniently meet up at and convinced my dad to just have lunch with “me” before I left.
The plan went off without a hitch.
Everyone showed up.
We sat in that park and laughed until our sides hurt. Because we are all just so darn funny. (At least we think we are.)
We shared life updates and inside jokes and heard all about John’s new position. He loved it there, and they loved him. And then we did what families do and took a bunch of pictures until all of us were smiling with our eyes open and my mom was happy.
It wasn’t until I found myself shuffling through pictures on my phone from that day to choose a few for his memorial video, that I noticed his crazy socks for the first time almost as if a small part of who my brother was as an incredibly intelligent man was peering out from his professional work attire to say, “yes I do work here but do you want to hear something funny?” Or, “I take life seriously, but have you seen my socks?” Because that sounds exactly like something that he would say. It was who he was. In fact, when he was able to talk in the hospital for those brief moments when the worst thing that we were facing after his accident was his paralysis, more times than not he was cracking a joke.
I love this about my brother. I love this about our family.
No matter the gravest of situations, you could always count on a laugh or two to break up the tears.
On my last trip up north I decided to stop by that park and remember my brother and our last picnic together.
I even reached out to his old boss in the Federal Defenders Court and asked if she had time for a last minute meet-up to give her a hug as she and his office had been so supportive throughout our whole journey. I had never met her face to face until that day, but I was so glad that I took the detour to spend a few minutes hearing about how much my brother was loved by so many. And how his presence, and now lack thereof, was felt.
He was always making jokes, always filling a room with laughter. Always. And her favorite memory which she without hesitation shared, was about his crazy socks. He was known by them in the office and after his passing they took it upon themselves to remember him by naming a piece of equipment “Krazy Sox” so they could think of him often.
It was perfect and I caught myself smiling as she was telling me about it.
And then of course I cried because I miss him so much and his ability to turn everything into an inside joke that made you feel like you shared something special, only to hear him laugh at it first with his extremely high-pitched squeamish laugh.
The holidays are upon us and even more than that, his birthday, and I have prepared myself for it to be quite the experience. One which we will undoubtedly laugh and cry our way through together. And in an effort to honor my brother’s memory and make the pain of his absence a little less harsh, I am choosing to do something fun. Which took me all of three seconds to decide as it was the most obvious choice.
I want to wear crazy socks.
This November 20th (and for every November 20th after it) in celebration of the day that my brother entered our lives, I am declaring it to be “Krazy Sox Day” in hopes that I will be joined by friends, family, and communities alike who just need a good laugh. Maybe even a breather from the heaviness of life and a chance to smile at some random pair of cat socks that I found in the back of my drawer.
Are you up for it? Up for acting like we are back in middle school during some Spirit Week only in this case instead of school spirit it will be in the spirit of good fun and spreading joy?
Are you up for pulling out your loudest, strangest, most funny or brightly colored pair of socks (or purchasing a pair if you don’t have any) and putting them aside to wear to work, around the house, to run errands, or doing whatever else you decide to do that day? And not just wearing them but taking a picture and posting it with the hashtag: #KrazySoxDay so we can all share in the glorious sock treasure that you found?
Because sometimes life is hard and while I do whole heartedly believe and am eternally grateful for the peace that surpasses understanding (Philippians 4:7), or joy that is unspeakable (1 Peter 1:8) that we are gifted through our faith in Christ to walk through hard times, I also know that “a joyful heart is good medicine” (Proverbs 17:22) and nothing sounds more joyful than seeing a bunch of adults relive their glory days with outlandish socks that scream “I take life seriously, but have you seen my socks?”
Will you join me? I hope you will.
I could use a great laugh, and I am sure others around you could too.
This is for you, John.
May the world continue to be filled with silliness and laughter, and Heaven more funny now that you’ve made it home. Save a joke for me.