At my mom’s wake in 2007, my siblings and I decided to play Elvis Presley’s music quietly in the background. We wanted her friends and family to have an excuse to smile in between all the tears. She was a big Elvis fan and shared that with her children.
As kids, we listened to Elvis’ music, watched his movies and shows about his life, and heard tidbits about him from my mom. My favorite story was the one she told about her finally getting to see Elvis perform at Chicago Stadium in May 1977 while she was pregnant with me. She and her childhood friend Josie were high up in the rafters but still screamed, “We love you, Elvis!” He died three months later.
Since my mom’s passing, I smile when I hear Elvis references, but I don’t seek out his music or movies. I let the memory of him rest with the memory of her. After all, I was just a bystander to her fandom, for the most part.
