Music and grief just go hand in hand, I’ve already wrote about that. How some times a song makes you cry out of no where. How other times you hear a song that feels as though the lyrics came straight from your own heart, your own mind, your own story. As the third anniversary of Bubba’s death grows closer and closer on the horizon, I thought about what type of tribute to write, whether or not I wanted to write one publicly this year at all, and then I heard a song and knew just what I wanted, what I needed, to say.

You can read the lyrics, or head over to Spotify and listen while you read, then I’ll tell you more about it below.

“I wanna live a life, live a life
Like a dollar and the clock on the wall don’t own me
Shine a light, shine a light
Like mama’s front porch when I’m lost and lonely
Start forgivin’ and start forgettin’
Be somebody that’s worth rememberin’
Live a life so when I die
There’s standing room only, standing room only
Standing room only, standing room only

I wanna take my grudges and my old regrets, and let ’em go
I wanna learn how to say a lot more yes and a lot less no
Girl, I wanna dance and shout and love out loud, and come alive
Don’t wanna be the guy too cool to laugh and too scared to cry

I wanna live a life, live a life
Like a dollar and the clock on the wall don’t own me
Shine a light, shine a light
Like mama’s front porch when I’m lost and lonely
Start forgivin’ and start forgettin’
Be somebody that’s worth rememberin’
Live a life so when I die
There’s standing room only, standing room only

Stop judging my life by my possessions
Start thinking ’bout how many headlights will be in my procession”

It sounds great in a country song, but what does that really look like? And how will you ever know if you actually accomplished a life that leads to a funeral with standing room only? There’s certainly a lot of mystery to what we’ll experience in heaven, one being wether or not we watch our funeral. Would we even care in light of eternity? Maybe the Lord allows us the opportunity to witness what our loved ones are experiencing, except with all the joy and peace of perfection and without all the pain, sorrow, and uncertainty of a sinful world. Regardless, the ones who are left here for the time being, they’ll know, they’ll see, they’ll hear the stories. I’ve been to two funerals with standing room only, where the line to hug the family is so long it’s like waiting in line for a (terrible) Disney ride! The first was for a friend’s mom who was a life long educator and made a remarkable impact on the community for decades. The other, was my husband Bubba.

We held his visitation and funeral at our church, in a sanctuary that holds around 1,000 people. For two hours we had people lined up, out the door, waiting to talk to me and to Bubba’s parents. The line for the visitation was so long that they had to cut it off so we could start the service. With each family and individual that came through the line it was abundantly clear the type of life Bubba lived. From elementary teachers and high school coaches, to class mates from every age, to coworkers from every job he’d ever had, even customers from a boot store and feed store he used to work at, friends from online gaming who had never got the chance to meet him in person, every small group we’d ever been a part of, nurses who took care of him, and more than a decade’s worth of students from ministry that he’d poured into. I had people texting me letting me know that they were there but they didn’t make the cut off.

In person or over the phone, each person shared similar stories, it was all about how Bubba made them feel. Loved.

“Stop judging my life by my possessions”

This line makes me chuckle, like a little inside joke. When creating tables for the hallway of the church for his visitation, we decided it was sort of a Bubba museum, and each table was a different theme. We had sports, music, friends, family, and miscellaneous hobbies (whittling, comics, fishing, hunting, gaming, etc). Bubba never had a fancy job, we never had a lot of money or possessions. When he got sick, he wasn’t even working. He had lost his job due to Covid lay offs and was a stay at home Dad. The possessions he left behind weren’t valuable to the world, they were random but still cherished by his loved ones. It was clear that possessions weren’t what mattered.

“I wanna learn how to say a lot more yes and a lot less no
I wanna dance and shout and love out loud, and come alive
Don’t wanna be the guy too cool to laugh and too scared to cry”

If there’s a section of lyrics that describes his life best it’s this. His whole life was one big yes. He didn’t take much convincing. Want to be friends? Yes. Want to go to this place? Yes. Want to play? Yes. Want to hang out? Yes. Didn’t think too much into what was going on, how much time or money was required (or available) for the yes. It was almost always a yes.

He had a female friend in high school who found herself in need of a prom date at the last minute, so she asked Bubba. Want to guess his answer? It was a yes. When he passed, she wrote on social media one of the most true and memorable statements, there was a Bubba shaped hole left in the world and in the hearts of so many.

I’ve tried to count, and I’m sure I’ve missed a few, Bubba and I attended at least 20 weddings. He was a groomsman in seven of them. Whether he was in the wedding party or not, he was a wedding guest LEGEND. So many people loved to reminisce on his epic dance moves. He could convince the most shy person to dance or sing karaoke. There was nothing he was too cool for. He made people feel alive, he made people laugh, he made people feel important, safe, included, and somehow invincible.

The joy and honor of being married to a man like this meant (and still means) getting to hear story after story about an incredible man. A man who didn’t judge, who forgave, who lived a big loud life, who would cry with you or make you smile, whichever you needed.

“Be somebody that’s worth rememberin’
Live a life so when I die
There’s standing room only, standing room only”

I don’t know if Bubba was able to see everyone there, if he was able to see the bottom of the sanctuary filled and the people going to sit up in the balcony. I saw it though. His family saw it. People saw it. Our kids saw it. They have to go most of their lives without him, and they’re left with only pictures, videos, and stories. Through these pictures, videos, and countless stories what they see is a life worth remembering, a life that led to a celebration with standing room only.

You can view his celebration of life here https://youtu.be/H78rMwon8eo