The party without the original party planner

Celebrating my 40th birthday without Pete wasn’t something that was ever going to happen.

He was always going to be front and centre of that celebration.

He had stated planning it years ago. Like, actually years ago.

It was my birthday but it was going to be his party.

He was throwing me a party.

I was allowed to give some guiding principals and some suggestion on the guest list, but for literally years now, he had been concerned only with making it an awesome event.

Because it was going to allow him, and me, and all our friends to rekindle that late teen / early 20s social highlight of the b&s ball ... but old school.

Firstly - there was to be an organising committee. He was president and the committee were going to have Canterbury jumpers with ‘committee’ embroidered on them.

It was traditional garb of the b&s committee member of the 1990s and he was on lots of them so I have them all still in a suitcase in the shed.

It was to be black tie - no baling twine or electrical tape would be allowed as an acceptable alternative to an actual bow tie.

It was going to be in the Riverina - at Conargo.

We would all be issued with plastic wristbands like the ones in hospital, a plastic cup and a sticker with something appallingly inappropriate written on it to commemorate the event. Possibly also a suggestive cartoon.

Beer and wine would be provided in unlimited measure.

Rum was only on for an hour. The coke would be stored in big plastic rubbish bins having been decanted from bottles there earlier in the day and had one party block of ice added, it would be flat and tepid.

Pete would be in charge of the music.

This much had already been organised and discussed and he died 11 months and 23 days before the event needed to occur.

So when it came to actually having my 40th birthday I had no idea what to do now Pete was no longer here.

The other ‘committee members’ (who Pete had personally seconded into the roles) suggested we could continue to run with the ball idea.

I felt very strongly it wouldn’t be the same without him. I could not do that event without him.

So then where? And when? And how? And who?

The options basically came down to:

Option 1 - going to home to the Riverina and still having something at Conargo but putting a twist on it - my party and then somehow transporting people out the road onto the plains to watch the sun set.

Pros - it’s at home. It’s on the plains. It evokes so many memories.

Cons - logistics (we now live over 5 hrs from there and I work every day). Weather (At my 21st party held at the same venue it was 44degrees at 6pm when the party started)

Option 2 - having something in the Western District.

Pros - logistics (it’s where we live now)

Cons - weather (there was the potential for it to be 15 degrees and raining).

Option 2 won almost entirely on logistical reasons. I work every day. The crazy stupid festive season leading into the 12 month anniversary was going to be challenging enough to stick a party in the middle of, without forcing me to negotiate the logistics of getting 5hrs away and back.

And so we had a garden party. With glitter. And a long lunch. And so many laughs. And a few tears. And lots of love. And lots of everything that I needed (Pete aside).

There were speeches. I hadn’t planned speeches. I knew they were happening and if I’m honest, I was never NOT going to say something ... my Dad and a girlfriend told tales and we all laughed.

Then I said something...

And I cannot tell you what came out of my mouth with any sort of surety - I blame the champagne.

But I know I told the people there that I am only the sum of all my parts and every single one of them makes up part of me. And together they have helped make me what I am today.

And I know I made a joke about Pete not being there. And if he wasn’t going to be there, he might as well shout me a pretty dress and good alcohol to share with everyone.

Pete not being there was like the giant elephant in the room. No one wanted to ruin my day by bringing up the fact he wasn’t. They didn’t want to upset me. I love them for that.

But it was the biggest gaping wound of the day.

And if you look at the pictures you would never know.

Because I had cried all the tears about that. I have had my chest ache about it. I had had a panic attack about it.

And I had sleepless nights for days about it.

I also spent a lot of the week leading up to it foot stamping about the fact the weather forecast was for a top temperature of less than 20 degrees!

But on the day?

The clouds cleared. The temperature rose. The champagne flowed. The conversation was jovial. The food was delicious and the setting was amazing.

So even without Pete we pulled it off.

I felt better the day after than I have at any of the b&s’ I had attended.

And there were a lot of people who felt as bad as anyone after one of those balls.

Honestly - Pete would have been bloody proud of the way we partied. I missed him so dearly being in the middle of it all pushing the pedestal out to pop me on for a day. But our friends did a freaking good job at making sure I floated up there on the wave of their love and friendship in his place.