Last weekend, I was blessed to celebrate my 32nd birthday. Although I’ve never been one to have a “birthday month” or “birthday week” of festivities, I have always made it a point to do something to celebrate turning one year older. I think partly because growing up my mother always emphasized birthdays. Whether it was family gathering for food and cake or a large party or event, she was intentional about making sure my siblings and I felt recognized and valued on our birthdays. And that has traveled with me into adulthood because even in my 30s my mom still sends me a hand-decorated box filled with gifts and cards.
The other reason I make it a point to celebrate my birthday is because I very rarely focus on myself. So, I do feel like if there’s at least one day out of the entire year that I can prioritize me, it’s the day I was born.
And seeing how I did focus on myself last weekend, I felt moved to write an inspirational blog post about life, and celebrations, and smelling your flowers while you have them. But three days after my birthday I received a text from my friend, and what she said completely disrupted my plans.
So, instead of writing about metaphorical flowers, I was reading about where to send real ones. Instead of encouraging others to celebrate, I was journeying through grief. And my focus on life shifted to the sudden absence of it.
“I wanted to let you know that Gi Gi passed away last week,” my friend’s text had read. Gi Gi, my former coworker and friend. The woman with whom I’d shared many laughs about work foolishness and refreshing conversations about natural hair, career goals, and friendships.
Gi Gi, an affectionate nickname for GeKeia, was the woman whose smile lit up our entire office, whose compassionate heart had coached me through many trying experiences after joining her team, and who unapologetically turned on Scandal and blasted old school R&B during our midnight shifts.
This woman who had made my time in a particular office so memorable and who I was delighted to continue a friendship with even after switching roles had died.
She was only 39 years old.
To say I was shocked was an understatement. And the shock quickly turned into confusion and sadness as the reality of her death settled in.
How could I be reading my former coworker’s obituary? How was I addressing sympathy cards to Gi Gi’s family and very close friend (who was also my former coworker)? Hadn’t I just laughed with her and hugged her goodbye on my last day at work? And not even two years later, I’m virtually attending her funeral?
This all seemed so surreal.
But, unfortunately, it wasn’t a dream. The number of people dying at younger and younger ages seems to be increasing. In fact, data shows that young-and-middle-age Americans (25-64 years old) have been dying at higher rates since 2010. And recently experiencing this type of tragic reality has opened my eyes even more to the significance of birthday celebrations.
I believe we should celebrate each day we are blessed to see, because it’s real out here. It can often sound common or cliché when we hear popular phrases, but tomorrow truly isn’t promised. Our next hour or minute isn’t even guaranteed, so we should value every minute of every day that we are blessed to experience.
And in the midst of celebrating each new day, I encourage us all to take a little extra time to celebrate our birthdays. So many people don’t live to see their next year of life. Gi Gi would have celebrated her milestone of 40 years in August. It’s hard for me to accept the truth that she will never again celebrate her birthday. If you have been blessed to see another year around the sun that alone is cause for celebration.
That means you had breath in your lungs for another 365 days. You got to experience the beauty of this earth for another 8,760 hours. You had another 525,600 minutes with loved ones, and you created more memories for 31,536,000 seconds.
The bible says that our lives are but a vapor compared to God’s perception of time, so your birthday is no small feat. It’s an annual reminder that even though this thing called life is already limited, somehow you have been blessed to keep experiencing it.
And that is definitely worth celebrating.