You do not need a festival to celebrate; life itself is a festival; celebrate your life.”

~Nitin Namdeo

Growing up, there wasn’t a lot of celebrations. Oh sure, there were the national holidays and one’s birthday, but never those defining moments that happen throughout life.  Award ceremonies, track and field events, dance recitals or end-of-the-school-year celebrations were not observed.  To be honest, I think most people didn’t celebrate the ordinary back then.

Maybe life felt hard, money tight, and a lack of guidance in how a family could function contributed to the feeling that only momentous occasions should be celebrated. But, on the other hand, maybe it felt like it was enough.


Have you ever seen the look in a child’s eye as they scan the audience looking for their parents.? The delight and joy that radiates through their entire being when they see you in a crowd is breathtaking.

Or the appreciation your partner feels when a promotion is acknowledged and expressed with happiness.

We too often forget that these moments are the fabric of our lives, to be honoured and cherished because they will not last for some, and for others, they may not come in the same way again.  Life is precious.  Celebrations exist to capture all the wonder and joy of even the most mundane to help sustain us through the less perfect moments.

This weekend was a perfect example. 

Yesterday, Scott, Jordyn, Max, Judy and I attended a dance recital in honour of Ryan.  It was a celebration of these amazing girls who worked hard all year on their craft. They put their heart into creating a beautiful tribute to our son.  We were honoured by their dedication and humbled that they chose Ryan’s story to showcase their talent.

Today is Mother’s Day, and although the day looks different with the girls all grown and without Ryan, I am thankful there are still reasons to be joyous.

For all of my children’s lives, we celebrated.  We baked cakes for losing their first tooth.  We played hooky from school to sit in near-empty theatres to watch movies.  We had last-day-of-school dates filled with new books and giant ice cream cones. Neither Scott or I ever missed a field trip or school performance.  We cheered on the sidelines of every soccer and ringette game. 

We made moments. 

Because if not now, then when?  And if not for them, then who?

I am a mother because of my three children.  But I am the person I am because of their love lessons. 

So on this random second Sunday in May, take time to celebrate whatever the reason.

Because you can.  Because you should.