Navigating the bittersweet waters of funerals can be tricky, but often, a little humor helps lighten the mood. After all, wouldn’t the departed prefer a smile over a somber atmosphere? My friend Lisa would have definitely opted for a lively celebration filled with vibrant colors and the upbeat tunes of tropical paradise rather than a stuffy gathering with mournful organ music and endless tissues. Like many fans of Jimmy Buffett, she adored the carefree vibe of island life, even if she never quite chased it down herself. (Trust me, witnessing a group of grown-ups tear up over lyrics from a guy whose most famous song is about a cheeseburger is an experience you won’t forget—what a strange afternoon!)
So that’s precisely what we did. During Lisa’s “time of sharing” (because let’s face it, “visitation” felt too heavy), someone suggested we turn the music up. Odd for a gathering like this, right? I hope the other families in the funeral home didn’t mind us jamming to “Trying to Reason With Hurricane Season” while they tried to hold their traditional ceremonies.
For nearly two decades, Jimmy Buffett’s concerts were our family’s summer cornerstone (I can backtrack to 1997 thanks to my trusty journal). Those shows were like a mashup of every holiday, birthday, and sunny day, all packed into a whirlwind of fun. Honestly, they were better than any holiday stress, with its travel headaches and underlying family dramas. Buffett’s concerts transformed into a giant festive gathering filled with sing-alongs, laughter, and a delightful mix of family—from immediate relatives to distant cousins, friends, and even that amusingly quirky neighbor who always showed up. Our yearly pilgrimage to see Buffett became our family tradition, overshadowing every other plan. We may not have managed a Thanksgiving dinner in two decades, but we certainly knew when tickets were going on sale!
With Lisa in charge (thank goodness for her driving skills!), we immersed ourselves in the inflatable carnival that blossomed in the parking lots. We formed uncoordinated circles, swaying to classics like “Come Monday” and “Southern Cross,” belting them out with abandon every summer for twenty glorious years.
One summer, I took Lisa to see him at a stadium, and I’ll never forget watching her spin around, soaking in the atmosphere like a kid at Christmas. At another concert, he tossed a towel in our direction—Lisa was so thrilled she had it framed! (Just a heads up, walking into a craft store with a towel will definitely raise some eyebrows.) I even snagged an autograph for her at a festival in 2012, where Buffett shared the stage with other legends. Interviewing him in 2015 was nerve-wracking, to say the least, especially when he joked about my kids. At one memorable performance, swaying together to “A Pirate Looks at Forty,” I noticed how tightly she held on to me. That wasn’t her usual style.
When Lisa passed away unexpectedly, my brother and I felt lost. We turned on Radio Margaritaville, as it seemed like the only way to honor her memory.
This year, as I found myself tearing up over the song “Fins,” I thought it would be nice to gather everyone for one last Buffett concert, a grand farewell before we officially embraced the realities of adult life—like student loans and weekend sports. We kept an eager eye on announcements, waiting for the day tickets would go on sale, but the news never came. After reaching out to his team, we learned he wouldn’t be making it to our city this year, a first in nearly thirty years. Of all the summer seasons, it felt like a punch to the gut. But perhaps it was for the best; without Lisa, our main cheerleader, we’d have surely missed our favorite dance partner.
In summary, our celebration of Lisa’s life was filled with laughter and music, echoing the joy she brought to our lives. While we mourned her absence, we also honored her spirit by embracing the good times we shared, dancing to the tunes of a beloved artist who united us all.