What we choose to celebrate

Last week, it was my birthday, but I was away for a week, so when I came back to work today, I got all the best wishes. I thanked my coworkers, then went on with my life. I don't really get why people celebrate birthdays. Actually, I do, but only for people who've had a life-threatening scare or are fighting a life condition, which they have overcome (maybe just for now, but a day at a time). In these cases, the people have sort of 'earned' the understanding of what an amazing achievement completing another solar year really means. For the rest of us, who simply live by inertia, unconsciously grateful for modern medicine and a comfortable environment, it has no real meaning.

So, why was I away last week, if not to celebrate my birthday?

To celebrate life.

In a few days, it will be my mother's 7th death anniversary, and my sister and I decided it was time to let her last remains go free, as she loved being. We decided to release her ashes, close that cycle. More than anything, we decided to celebrate my mother's life and the joy she meant to us.

I went to visit my sister for a week, enjoying the company of people I love, people she loved. My nephew, whom my mum used to call 'shrimp' (he's about 1.80 m tall), also came to celebrate her. We got her the kind of box she liked, we placed with her some of her loved flowers. We set up a play list full of fun, full of funky beats, full of gumption. We placed her in the sea, where she can float and swim, go anywhere in the world, under the brilliant sun she worshipped. We laughed remembering her quirks, and her no-nonsense approach to discipline (wide open palm, once, across the face, which we all resented yet made us laugh that night). We made a feast, ate and drank in her memory, ended up with some fresh strawberries and rich whipped cream. We cried a bit, together; we mostly laughed, together.

We said goodbye, not to celebrate her death, but to remember her life. We chose to embody her joy, to release her by reliving what she loved. We were finally able to love her enough to do so with honest zest. We go on with life, as she urged us on, all those years back.

Life and death, they are a constant, which can be very sad and scary, or life-full, love-full, courage-full.

Last weekend, we chose love, we chose life.

Letting my mother go was the most exquisitely painful and loving moment of my birthday week.
I couldn't have asked for anything better, anything more. 

Celebrate those around you, not once a year, but with every laugh, hug, chat, tear you share.

I celebrate you.

Comments

  1. SUE MAGENTA9 February 2019 at 14:56

    Love you sooooo much!!!! Mwahhhhh

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Makhshefa Crystal Rowan9 February 2019 at 17:26

      And I love you, too!
      BTW, I just realised it's 8, not 7 yrars. Gosh! It really messes up with my mind.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Thank you because I love you

I used to think that 'I love you' was the most powerful thing you could say. I amend that. I think 'I love you' may be the most beautiful thing you want to hear, but 'Thank you' is the strongest message you can give. In fact, I have come to understand the latter as an added-on form of the former. Please, let me explain. Telling someone you love them is a marvelous thing. It is marvelous because it gives to both the teller and the listener. The one who says it does so from a warm, constructive feeling of communion, care, affinity, and generosity. When you get to the point where it must be said, it is because all your realities (physical, psychological and spiritual) have recognised the Joy of that other one's presence in your Life - and the other can be a person, an animal, a plant, an entity... you name it. Saying it; actually forming the words in your mind, with any part of your body, grants you the Joy of becoming aware of that instinctual recognition. A...
Read more

What I did on a Sunday

I was hoping to spend a quiet day in bed, not for any reason (i.e. I'm healthy, no need to panic), just because I can since it was a Sunday. But no, I realised I actually wanted to go to Richmond Park (I have been in London for five years, but never there), and that I had to somehow explore. So I sloooowly got dressed, even put on some make up (!!), checked the bus map and decided which buses I needed (without checking the TfL website! I'm very proud of myself, as it's become a sort of permanent crutch, that site) and eventually did leave the house. I decided to try and find another way to get to the bus stop, and followed a footpath between the houses. The good news is, I did manage to get to the stop. The so-so news are, it had taken me longer than without the 'shortcut'. And the 'harrumph' news, I had just missed the bus and had to wait another 20 minutes. Thankfully, I had bought myself gloves and a hat the previous evening, so I did not freeze, you m...
Read more

Time to wake up from the anaesthesia

We live in a beautiful, bountiful Cosmos, We see its surprising creations daily, miraculously, all around us: the glory of dawns and sunsets; the fantastic changes in the seasons; the astonishingly logical economy of the ecosystems - where everything has a role and nothing goes to waste; the awesomeness of life-generation, two half-cells combining to create a unique, complex, independent, sentient multicellular organism (be it krill or whale, plant or animal, snail or human); the mystery of planets, starts, galaxies far and similar and unlike our own;... It should be so easy to be aware of all that munificence at every life-giving breath, at every passing cloud spotted, at every thought. Why don't we? Because we have been taught to shy away from it all, which has in turn become too much to handle, and thus appears hostile, oppressive, scary. Instead of relishing the World around us, glorifying human kindness and creativity, respectful of the Gift they truly are, we aim to contr...
Read more