Three traditions.

This past December, I was a bridesmaid for the first time. Dressed in turquoise and gold, I carried a bouquet of orchids as I walked down the aisle to stand by my cousin and his girlfriend as they made their declaration of love and commitment to each other. I felt honored to be among the other close friends and family they chose to be apart of their ceremony. I had a brief moment of humbling awe as I thought about taking part in such tradition, since my parents never placed much value on anything ceremonial. As I looked at my cousin, I couldn’t help but think of our mothers, who were close as sisters, and all that our family has survived and all of the good that will come.

Yesterday, I was pallbearer for the first time. Dressed in black, I carried my grandmother’s casket down the aisle of her church and then from the hearse to her grave site. I felt proud to carry my grandmother with my dad and and our cousins for our family’s goodbye. In the midst of the sadness and solemnity of the moment, I looked at my dad and thought of my grandmother, his own mother, remembering all that our family has survived and all of the good that will come.

This morning, I went to Sunday judo practice for the one millionth time. Dressed in white, I worked with my first sensei ever. He was in for practice with his daughter, Kristin, who was in town for the weekend to introduce her fiance to her father. I felt nervous to work with my coach for the first time in about 20 years. Then after I finished a round of randori with Kristin, I couldn’t help but think of how long she and her dad have been a part of my family, and how they helped make judo practice feel like a tradition. I felt so happy remembering all of joy we’ve shared in that past and all of the good that will come.