While Amber and I are in some ways astonished that we've now been together 20 years, it also feels like the most ordinary thing in the world. Our relationship is our safe harbor, the cozy cove from which we venture forth each day to ride the choppy seas of these troubled times.

That's not to say we take it for granted - we speak of our gratitude for each other, to each other, every day. But when it came to commemorating the day, in this year of big upheavals, we didn't feel the need to make a big splash.

Instead we spent the evening of our actual anniversary at a bird watching class at the Audubon Society. We played hooky for a day earlier this week to visit friends from our MichFest family as they passed through Astoria on the cruise ship they were working. And then we gathered members of our many communities for a low-key happy hour at a local restaurant.

How blessed are we? My godchildren and niece and nephew who set out our photo albums and greeted our guests. College friends who knew me as a 17 year-old. Amber's "tennis wives". Her father's best friend of more than 50 years. My cousin and brother. Former coworkers. Clients. Good people I've met through my Death Café work. Members of our Thanksgiving and 4th of July family. Social justice colleagues. A MichFest sister. Fellow Orphan Wisdom School scholars. The partner of my roommate from 20 years ago who witnessed the very first steps of this new relationship. Such a treat to see those many strands of our lives woven together for a few hours of celebration.

It brought us back to that very first time we asked for our relationship to be witnessed and blessed by our community, when we were five years in - on a day that ended up eleven days after 9/11 and eleven days before my father's death. We needed to be together as a community then, more than ever. Our low-key coming together last night was a reminder of how much we need each other, still.

For every person able to come by to wish us well there were so many more at too great a distance or otherwise occupied with families or their own good works. To know so many good people, to be connected even if only occasionally, is evidence enough of the benevolence in the universe that we feel well buoyed to sail another day.

More on how we got here:
I Now Pronounce You: Our third and final wedding.
My Big (Null & Void) Gay Wedding: Our White Salmon and Lucky Lab ceremonies.
Yes, I'll Marry You: A whirlwind tour through my 26 years of activism for LGBT equality.

"On the occasion of my 80th birthday, please join me for a rite of passage ritual witnessing the beginning of the third stage of my life."

That was the invitation that brought together members of Don Tarbutton's many communities: the neighbors who share his cohousing ecovillage; his colleagues from hospice, chaplaincy, PDX Death Café, and his earlier career in hospital administration; Buddhist sangha and Unitarian Church members; family and long-time friends.

Rather than wait for his death for these loved ones to gather, Don chose to bring them together while alive. But this man who is counted as mentor and advisor to so many didn't want to squander the occasion of his 80th birthday with a mere party. He approached this threshold with the thoughtful discernment and seriousness of purpose for which he's known and loved.

It was time to "celebrate and set aside my life to date and transition into the beginning of a third (and last) stage of life," Don said, "and to communicate that to my family and friends."

Early in our planning process, Don described his vision for the ceremony as celebratory, an opportunity to express gratitude, a time of letting go and transition. He wanted his guests to discover aspects of him that they hadn't know about before, to feel that their contribution to his life and his to theirs had been acknowledged, and to get to meet others who were important to him.

This was a community affair, with many hands chipping in to prepare the space, harvest flowers from the ecovillage garden, and collect contributions for the food bank in Don's honor. On arrival, they wrote words of blessing on paper leaves that festooned a graceful frond of bamboo.

We began with a moving meditation practice that encouraged mindful mingling. After our welcome and an invocation by Don’s dear friend and chaplain colleague, Rick, Don introduced a 30 minute video of his life, complete with his pediatrician's nutritional plan for him, an early report card, Doonesbury cartoons that paralleled his own coming out as a gay man, and home movie footage. Don accompanied the nearly 80 years of photos with an understated narration that shared the key events and insights of his life. 

After six close friends, including Don's partner Jerome, shared their perspectives on Don's gifts, we moved into the heart of the ritual. Rick asked Don to take a vow, and asked us, his community, to pledge our support. In this way, Don consecrated his intention "to let go of or allow to recede into the past, those life experiences that no longer retain active senses of meaning or purpose... and by doing so, open to new life experiences, ones that I seek out or come my way.”

After Don stepped across a threshold of sage smoke, he received a rousing ovation from his community. We moved then into another of Don's passions, Dances of Universal Peace.

As the music began, the room thrummed with appreciation for the gift Don had given everyone present, to feel the bonds of community and humanity strengthened through the act of witnessing his embrace of this place on his life's journey.

When I asked Don if I could share the experience on this blog, he said yes: "I very much want people to know about this toward-the-end-of-life option for a celebration of life with themselves present. For me, I would not have wanted to have missed it!"
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