It is common, among overly busy people, to forget important dates in their lives.

Those who choose as a top priority their professional work, volunteering or any activity which they are engaged to, tends to forget the day of their spouse’s birthday, their children’s, the wedding anniversary, etc.

For those who live with such creatures, and waits, with anxiety, greetings, a surprise, perhaps a treat, a flower, it is disappointing.

Sometimes, the day, which ought to be clothed with joy and happiness, becomes an intimate tragedy, not always externalized.

Over time, this will erode the matrimonial, the parents-children relationship, the friendship one, because it seems disinterested or indifferent to important dates.

When it comes to children, who expect something special on their birthday, depending on their emotional structure, it is difficult to gauge the damaging effects.

Some people ask: Is it so important to celebrate?

If we consider that the fact that we find ourselves reincarnated on this planet has to do with our spiritual growth, with our progress, it is extremely important to celebrate the day when we opened our eyes on the flesh.

It is so important, indeed, that the spiritual benefactors have informed us that, on such dates, they themselves, those responsible for our guard, by Divine determination, celebrate with us.

It was, with emotion, we read the experiences of Viktor Frankl, in his second night at Auschwitz concentration camp.

He was awakened from his profound sleep of exhaustion, by music. The head of the block was celebrating something, in his compartment, next to the entrance to the shed where Doctor Frankl was detained.

Drunk voices were screaming popular songs. It was an almost uncomfortable bustle, especially for someone who was a prisoner, transferred to one of worst concentration camps, active in World War II.

Suddenly, however, there was silence. Then, a violin began to cry a song of infinite sadness. A song rarely played and not yet spent listening so much…

Cried the violin, and the psychiatrist in prison was weeping. That was because, on that day, someone was turning twenty-four years old.

And that someone was lying in some shed in the Auschwitz camp, only a few hundred or thousands of meters away.

It really did not matter the distance. It was really out of reach.

This someone was his wife. And he could not hug her, or kiss her, or hold her close to the heart that loved her, at least for a few seconds and whisper in her ear: Happy Birthday!

He never saw her again. She died in the concentration camp.

*  *  *

If, one day, life establishes distances between us and our loved ones, it is possible that we remember, among bitter pains, the moments that were not enjoyed.

Those in which we could have hugged more, kissed more, manifested our love…

Therefore, let us enjoy the hours we are given together with our affections. They are irreplaceable.

And let us celebrate every day the pleasure of enjoying their presence.

Think about it: celebration of love, in truth, has no day.

 Spiritist Moment Team, with fact taken by chapter
Humor no campo de concentração, from the book
Em busca de sentido, by Viktor Frankl, publisher Vozes.
April 13.2018.