kay

i received a text message from my dad yesterday. he found out his neighbor had passed away early sunday morning. stuff like that gets me. kind of shakes you when someone you've shared a bit of life with passes away.

i sent a text back to my dad, "how's her husband taking it?" my dad said he broke down while telling him how his wife didn't want her death to be looked at as a sad occassion. she wanted everyone to throw a party.

"that's what i would want," i messaged back to my dad.

about a year ago, david and i were driving down the highway. a song came on the radio. david turned the volume up high and started singing. he paused to say, "this is the song i want you to play at my funeral. no dark clothing. just celebrate." he continued to say, "whether i live 40 years or 80, the fact is that i lived. that's something to celebrate."

whenever i try to tell david what i would want him to do when i pass away, he always says, "that's great, but you won't be around to tell me different."

when i return to california to visit, my mom and i always walk one door north with the children. we knock on the door and kay always answers. she loves to see the children.

christmas 2009, we did just that. it was a beautiful christmas afternoon in california. my mom and i walked the children next door to visit kay and her family. kay was preparing cheeseburgers to grill outside. her husband was opening a bottle of wine. grandchildren were playing games in the other room. great grandparents were at the dining room table dealing cards. i loved that they were having a non-traditional christmas dinner. i loved that everyone was just relaxing. nothing formal. nothing fussy.

so that's what i learned from kay, to celebrate life, to grill cheeseburgers on christmas and to enjoy a good bottle of wine with good company.