A celebration for a life well-lived

The other day my 9-year-old son asked what exactly people celebrate during a “celebration of life.”

I thought it was a great question — something I hadn’t thought about, even though I’ve attended many such celebrations before.

I explained that it varies depending on the situation. If the person believed in an afterlife, we’re celebrating their passage to a better place. If the person had been ill or injured, we can celebrate their freedom from pain. And if the person had cultivated a life full of loved ones, we celebrate the impact that person made in their world and what they meant to everyone in it. Sometimes it’s an amalgam of all these things.

That’s what was on my mind Saturday when I attended a celebration of life for my friend Steve Vericker, a desert radio host and local personality.

When I moved to the Coachella Valley in 2005, I worked for the daily newspaper. My job was in the features department, writing lifestyle stories and my own weekly column. I worked hard to make a good impression; this had been a big move across the country, and Palm Springs both awed and intimidated me. I desperately wanted to carve out my own little place in it.

However, there was a popular morning radio show that eviscerated my column every week. Absolutely ripped it to shreds. And the more I pushed myself to be cool or impress readers, the more it altered my voice. Months after my arrival, I was mocked, miserable, and wracked with self-doubt.

An email from a stranger

That’s when I received a message from Steve Vericker (known on the radio as Steve Kelly).

“I want to get you on my show,” he said. “Let’s talk about some stories you’re working on and show people who you really are.”

Keep in mind, I didn’t know Steve. I hadn’t yet met Steve. But somehow Steve knew everything. He understood I needed a life preserver, and he made a point to be one for me. So I went on his show. I chatted about who I am and what I write, and it restored a lot of my confidence.

To this day, I’m still touched by his gesture. It was a generous use of his platform and a real gesture of kindness at a time when I didn’t see much of it elsewhere. Not only was Steve great at helping out fellow journalists and creating valuable networks, he was very good at being kind.

Many years later, our friendship well established, Steve popped into my inbox again. This time it was to say he was proud of me for getting quitting alcohol. He told me that he’d been dry for decades, and he credited sobriety with saving his life.

“I promise you, life only gets better,” he wrote.

So that’s what I celebrated on Saturday during Steve’s celebration of life — the gifts he so freely gave, the way he reached out whenever life was hard, and the promise that things always get better.

•••

Steve’s ashes will be spread by his family and close friends in Ireland. If any of you are ever in the Emerald Isle, I hope you’ll think about his generosity of spirit, and it’ll inspire you to pass along a small kindness.