I'd send out the invite on personalized stationary. The table would be set with care, lace edged tablecloth, the finest of china. A butler would greet you and welcome you to your seat. This may be a party, but it isn’t crowded. The table is empty with the exception of three name plates. One being mine, of course, the other two yours. They’d be customized by the finest calligrapher money can buy.
You two would arrive separately, each in your own manner. I’d expect nothing less. I’d have a chauffeur escort you to the ballroom where music is playing and the atmosphere is fun, yet heavy with the weight of questions I want to ask. I won’t. This party is for the two of you to enjoy, and by simply showing up, you will have graced me with everything I could ever ask for.
Neither of you would like it, I feel. The fanciness isn’t your scene, you prefer the simple things in life, and I respect that. But you'd dress up anyway. I feel you would both be respectful of the occasion. I'd dress up too, and serve only the finest dishes, because you both deserve only the best, especially given you were both bestowed the worst in life.
I’d begin with an introduction.
Chris. You have inspired me since the day I “met” you. I grew up a lonely girl in a cold home, and all you ever did was provide me with warmth. All I ever wish to do is provide you with the same warmth and comfort you were able to give me. I want you to feel surrounded by love and compassion, because it’s what you deserve. You never deserved to be alone, and I’m sorry you were. I’d tell the story of the day in 2009 when my father finally had the strength to tell 10 year old me that you were no longer with us - almost twelve years after your death. I mourned you that day as if it had been your last and couldn’t help but feel alone when I realized that we had never walked the Earth at the same time. One of the more tragic moments in my upbringing. I’d do everything in my power to make you smile and refuse to let you go when the night is over. A dinner party isn’t enough time with you, hell, 33 years wasn’t enough with you. I’d thank you with all my heart, for making a lonely little girl smile in a dark world.
Robin. There aren’t enough words for me to describe how much you mean to me. I was raised with you, so much so you felt like family. I didn’t believe it, the day I found out you passed. I prayed and hoped for it to be a lie, for you to make a joke at those who created a hoax, but that never happened. I would tell you how loved you were. Not just by me, but by so many. You impacted lives and made people smile in times where there was little joy to be found. You raised generations of children to believe in things greater than themselves and to make light of bad situations. Laugh through the pain and the struggles. I wish we could’ve spent more of this life together. It was too soon, and I can’t say I understand why. But it isn’t my place to make sense of it. It’s my place to hold your memory dear to my heart and pass down the love and laughs you brought into this world. I ain’t never had a friend like you.
The night would go on full of laughter and smiles. I feel the two of you would get along. Finally, an empty bottle in the center of the table would symbolize the night drawing to a close. I’d thank you both for coming and send you both home the way you lived. With smiles and love. And as your car doors closed, taking you back to a restful place, I would find myself crying. Staring at the empty table. You both devoured the meal, I expected that. But I find myself leaving the way I lived - alone. But for the first time in a long time I feel something I haven’t in a while. Peace.