The Groundhog Day Juggler's Festival Atlanta has been an annual family event for as long as I can remember. This year I was again surrounded by friends and family, but I could not shake the fact that my granddad, Lee Howard, was not there. 

For the past 16 years granddad was a fixture up in the stands on competition day. Ever since his two sons, Andy and Wallace (my dad and uncle), learned to juggle from the FSU circus at Callaway Gardens in 1962, juggling has been a part of our lives. Though he never learned to juggle because of his glass eye, granddad always enjoyed watching his sons and grandsons juggle. We juggled at his Rotary Club, his church, and family gatherings. He was constantly prompting and prodding us, always proud seeing his family performing in front of people. He was there when the Howard Family Jugglers won the "Most Awesome" Phil award at Groundhog Day in 1989.

It was only fitting that when he died last June we should send him out in style - juggling style.

In the months of his final illness, Lee determined that his death should prompt a celebration of life rather than a sad funeral. He specifically requested that Wallace and Andy pass clubs over his casket, that his granddaughter perform her belly-dancing routine, and my dad, brothers and I play on our instruments a hymn he liked. 

A large crowd gathered at the funeral home for the visitation, and we brought our clubs. We put on a show of club passing, a tic-tock, and a star. Then came a request from the audience: a hat routine that was well known among family and friends. The hard part was finding a hat.

After asking around the room to no avail, my dad suddenly turned to the casket and pulled Lee's hat out of the coffin. There were gasps of surprise around the room, but somehow everyone knew Lee would have a hand (or a hat!) in the evening somehow!

Then, as if the juggling wasn't enough, my cousin came out and belly danced. Somehow that night seemed a little bit easier to get through once the juggling clubs came out. Death is an unavoidable event, but it doesn't have to be scary or sad. I'm just glad that I could juggle for my granddad one more time.