Every Day Is a Gift.

A beautiful tribute to Meg.

A friend passed away last week. It was sudden. She was too young. And she had two lovely children and a husband who loved her very much. She was hilarious. She was quirky. She was zany. She was exuberant in her love of parties and giving gifts. She had Halloween parties where she and her husband built a trebuchet to launch pumpkins across the backyard. She bought my daughter Grace a designer jacket for no reason. She played pranks on her co-workers and left little gifts on our desks at holidays. She hosted parties for artists, jewelers and craftsmen to come to her house and sell their goods. She entered art and logo contests and won them. Just for fun. She adored her children and they adored her. I'm sure she had every intention of watching them grow up and now she doesn't get to. 

I haven't been able to write about any of this because I am still so sad and mad about it. It's all so brutally unfair. I didn't think I could put any coherent sentences together that anyone would want to read. But then I think of the balloons we launched at her funeral. We watched them sail up into the air and it was beautiful. The sun was shining. Children were smiling up at the sky. The sound of their little voices having only just sung, "You Are My Sunshine" was still ringing in my ears. 

And so I went home and I spent time with my husband and children. Normally my husband and I take turns walking the kids to the park. Normally one of us does something with the kids while the other one gets work done at home. But this weekend I got up off the couch, I closed my laptop and I went outside with my children and husband. We watched them play and basked in the presence of all of us being together. The heavy feeling in my blood and body began to lift just a little. 

And maybe that's yet another gift from my friend? Maybe I honor her by appreciating these moments. I'm sure she would tell me to do something fun and creative. Jump on a skateboard. Do a handstand. Draw pictures on the driveway with chalk. Have a water balloon fight. All of it. 

That's what I'll do. That and leave little gifts on my co-workers' desks. May the pleasant surprises remind us all of Meg. May she live on in these moments of joy.