This time last week, I was still recovering from one of the most wonderful celebrations I might ever be a part of. It was modest by some standards. Extravagant by others. It wasn't a wedding or a christening. It was way more than just another party. It was a visitation.
My friends and family came together with food, flowers, dancing and gifts for The Cancer Card Xchange to celebrate me and my 40th birthday. I accepted it all (and a few tear-filled moments) with an open and grateful heart.
Like everyone else, I have had loss and sadness. More than my share by some standards. Less by others. And there has always been an equal amount of joy. This party was a celebration, a pause button of sorts, to mark it all.
I understand the concept of visitations at funerals. People want to get together and remember the good times they had with the departed. People who haven't seen each other for years, catch up and vow to keep in touch. My goal: to make a visitation (after I'm dead) completely unnecessary.
For the most part, I have always made time for and sought out any opportunity for "visitation". Dates with St. Joel, of course. Long drives to visit family, sure. Lunch with friends, I'm in. Movie with girlfriends in the middle of the week, whenever possible. Hour-long phone calls with friends from high school, a necessity.
I'm doing all the visitation I can while I'm still here to enjoy it because I believe visitation is for the living. You just have to show up.
Another day, another story,