Today is the one year anniversary of Celebrate Life Day. Two days after it happened, my mother asked if I was over it. I wasn’t then, and I am not now.
But I don’t want to ever be over it. I’ve changed a lot because of it.
I appreciate every day, even the sucky ones. I decided to invest in things that matter instead of shoes. My faith was strengthened.
It still shakes me; usually when violence once again erupts in the neighborhood. Little things get blown out of proportion over the course of the next few days but then I am fine once again.
Earlier this week, I had an unexpected conversation with a coworker and dear friend where we confessed our secret struggles over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “The 20th is Sunday, right?” I asked her towards the end of the conversation. “That’s so funny you said that,” she looked at me, surprised. Unbeknown to me, the day also held special significant for her, having experienced something terribly sad a couple years previous. This lead to an even more raw confession about how we’ve felt on edge the whole week leading up to today.
“I am glad you didn’t die,” she said as we walked back to our desks. “Thank you,” I replied at the time, but thinking of this conversation today made me cry tears of thankfulness. I am glad I didn’t die too.
As the angel on the train said that day, “It’s going to be a great day, because now you know what it means to be alive.”
To all my friends and family - I love you very much. Happy Celebrate Life Day!