Dr. Amy Katherine Phelps

Her kindness, love, and laughter filled our spirits with joy.  We ask you to gather and celebrate her life with us 4 pm Saturday, June 3, 2023 at Mermaids.

What Are We Supposed To Do Now?

For Amy Katherine Phelps

By Rachel Bland

What are we supposed to do now?

When we're supposed to be seeing your favorite outfit of the day. The way you embraced all the vibrancy that colors have to offer-- fiercely wearing fuchsia and flaunting chartreuse. The way you twirled around while wearing patterns that clashed and clamored in a way that not only somehow worked-- but sang. The way you were always looking for any excuse to wear a costume-- any costume. You not only brought us joy through your fashion, you inspired us. Oh, and of course, making sure to point out your never ending love of Bisoxual Socks. Duh.

What are we supposed to do now?

When we're supposed to be hearing your laugh. A laugh like the Kool-Aid man busting through a 90's commercial-- Loud, unashamed, and leaving us with the sweetest aftertaste. A laugh that would spill out and pool around our feet, gathering in a sugary mess-- urging us to let go and splash around, joining in the revelry. You taught us that great laughter comes from a joy found deep in the gut; a sticky, syrupy laughter that should be indulged in. So, bring on the sugar rush-- OH, YEAH.

What are we supposed to do now?

When we're supposed to be encouraged by you. The ultimate hype girl, you were each of our biggest fan. Star Wars, KPOP, obscure 90s sketch comedy shows, Shakespeare plays-- our interests became your interests, not necessarily because you were into them, but because you were into us. You were the show up and show out friend. Your words had a way of becoming this gentle, warming breeze-- lifting us up and making us feel wholly and exceptionally... valued. I miss the warmth.

What are we supposed to do now?

When we're supposed to be inspired by you. It didn't take a microscope to see the signs - your generosity and desire to help others was glaringly obvious. A doctor with a gentle and kind face, a loving big sister, an outspoken advocate for social justice, a vigorous supporter of local business, a dear friend treating the birthday girl at her favorite restaurant. Your charity was infectious - but we were happy to catch it... because it made us want to be better too. You were the best kind of contagious.

What are we supposed to do now?

When we're supposed to be singing with you at the top of our lungs. Having stood by you for hours worth of karaoke and a Taylor Swift concert, I can honestly say... you weren't the best of singers. But here's the thing: absolutely no one cared; including you. Because it wasn't your voice that did the singing - it was your spirit. The joy that radiated off your perfectly awkward dance moves, your slightly off key notes, your not quite correct lyrics - it was tangible. Singing with you muted any inhibitions that we might have felt about our own shaky moves. It wasn't just singing; you had a way of making us more comfortable in our own skin. So, sing out, Louise.

What are we supposed to do now?

I suppose, we're supposed to wear our favorite outfit of the day - bring color to a world that needs it

I suppose, we're supposed to throw our heads back and laugh -

when something is really, really funny.

I suppose, we're supposed to encourage -

each other, ourselves . . . daily.

I suppose, we're supposed to inspire -

through our actions, through our words, through our thoughts.

I suppose, we're supposed to sing -

loudly, without fear, and full of joy.

In short, my dearest friend Amy, I suppose -

we're supposed to live.