celebrate good times c’mon

Today I am wearing the first ring my husband ever gave me. It is a metal smiley face that must have been birthed from a plastic egg from a vending machine. It appeared taped on my door, wrapped in a piece of paper with a note from my then boyfriend, the day after we met 22 years ago. And the day after I lost a ring that my father had given me for my 16th birthday. Thinking of it now, my 16th birthday was a good one. I got my driver’s license, a ring, and a new fluffy blue-gray kitten we named Cassidy after the Grateful Dead song. At the time, I had forgotten that Kathie Lee Gifford had a child name Cassidy until my brother reminded me. She also had dogs named Chardonnay and Chablis. Poor Frank.

Back to my husband. We met on a program called Semester at Sea in college which I have mentioned a million times but I can’t stop now because it was so much fun and changed the course of my life. We were on a boat somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on our way to Kobe, Japan from Vancouver, braving rough swells and a bobbing moon, when I found the note on my door. It read in the most beautiful handwriting I had ever seen and worlds away from my own scribble, “I know this doesn’t replace the ring you lost but I hope it brings a smile to your face”.

Uh oh, I thought, I am supposed to be asexual on the trip! But, deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be keeping that promise for long. As if his freckles, wide smile, and kind green eyes weren’t enough, his words and the ring brought tears to my eyes. I remember looking at him, thinking my dad had something to do with our meeting. My friend, Kristi, from forever certainly did. She told me about Josh in the first place (even though she had never met him, she knew of him from her then friend now husband). I envision my dad whispering in her ear in the middle of the night among stardust and moonbeams that he needed to enlist her help to make a little magic happen.

The magic happened and today, we are celebrating fifteen years of marriage with our three kids.

We also celebrated our son’s bar mitzvah a few weeks ago. The weeks leading up to it were a bit nerve-racking but also exciting and sweet. I didn’t sleep great thinking about all of the things that needed to get done. But we hired an event planner who kept us organized and dealt with lots of little details that I didn’t even know existed. Thank goodness for Cindi!

But the moments of seeing my son sitting at the dining room table, his back to me with the afternoon sun streaming in the windows as dust motes danced around, chanting in Hebrew, is an image forever sketched in my heart. Or at the service when I turned to look behind me as we were walking around the room with the torah and saw my littlest waving to everyone with a coy smile like she was a princess. Or when I was reading my speech to my son and he teared up as I talked about his grandmother, my mom.

One night when we were sitting down at the kitchen table looking over what family members would be doing what honors at the service, I felt my throat tighten and tears well up in my eyes. The reality of not having my parents present struck me in my chest like a bolt of lightening. Of course, I had had this thought many times before but there was something that hit me in that moment about the stark reality of it. The nervousness was one thing and I think something to be expected when planning a celebration such as this but I realized some of it was really underlying grief.

Not having my mom or dad there brought back the feelings of my high school graduation without my dad and then planning my wedding without him. No, he would not be giving me away and there would be no father/daughter dance. It stung. And so did this.

So I called in the troops. I had some hard conversations with family about expectations and what I needed and hoped for. I went to hypnosis for the first time which helped me relax and focus on what was important. And I went back to therapy. I took care of myself, making time for friends, rest, and exercise. I wrote about my feelings and intentions for what I hoped would be a special day for my son and our family. And I cried. Both before the bar mitzvah and during the speech I gave to my son that day.

I didn’t want the day to be about my sadness, I wanted the day to be about my son and his achievement and our commitment as a family to keep these traditions and values alive.

The weekend came and went. And it was beautiful. The moments of sadness were blanketed with warmth and love and support from our family and friends. The worry and anxiety was shielded by the spell of sharing a meaningful day with those we loved. I didn’t focus too much on who wasn’t there, I felt grateful for who was.

And when my friend Sally came down the stairs with a handbag of my mom’s that I given her after my mom’s funeral, she told me to look in the pocket. There, was a package of unopened butterscotch flavored life savers that my mom had bought years ago. Sally couldn’t bring herself to open them or take them out. The interesting bit was earlier that morning, I thought to myself that I needed to buy lifesavers (this is not a common thought of mine) due to the fact that my youngest had a cold and had been coughing. She's too young for cough drops so I figured she wouldn’t choke on a life saver. And there they were, a package of them, a gift from my mom even in her absence two years later. At a time when I really needed her. She was there. Here. She still is.

The past few months have taught me a lot about letting go in preparation for the constant surprises, both good and bad, that come our way. It was a reminder that we are not in control and the best practice for our sanity is to come to a place of surrender and neutrality, acceptance and appreciation for what is. It taught me that the good outweighs the bad and we have so much to feel deeply thankful for.

Also how incredibly important it is to celebrate the good times! Having fun is some of the best medicine there is! We need to engage in celebrations as much as possible if you ask me.

Lastly, it reminded me how adaptable we are. That things are often not as bad as we think they are going to be. That we survive hardship and heartbreak because it is our nature to do so and that there is always a warm ring of smiles wrapped around us to keep us comfy cozy when we are missing something or someone we love.