He was a 40-something year old family man that I used to work with. Our families hung out with each other outside of work for a while before losing touch, as life is wont to do when raising families. I knew his wife better as I worked with her for a longer period of time, but I guess those details don't really matter. What matters is that a wife and two daughters lost their husband and father yesterday to disease that caused all kinds of chaos in their lives over the five years they knew it lived inside of him. Yesterday, the world lost a funny, kind, laid back family man. The world lost a devoted family man. Jack loved his family something fierce. It was always clear to me that they were his number one priority.
When I receive news of an untimely death I always reflect on the deceased's life and wonder how many things there were that he/she wished he had done differently. What would she tell me if she could greet me in the land of the living for just a couple of minutes? Is there anything that he would tell me to do differently? Is there anything that she would say that would change the course of my life? What lesson can I learn from his death? How can I use this tragedy and make it feel like it was not for nothing? So that the family who's hearts have been broken open by this person's absence on this earth can see that good has come from such a horrible painful experience.
Death has indirectly found its way to my door multiple times over these last four years, and I have found that because I am so sensitive, these deaths have weighed more heavily on me than they would perhaps for most. I think about the father from the public school my kids went to, the boy scout dad, whose wife was part of the PTA with me, who was on vacation with his wife one week and gone a week or two later. I think about the mom I met through Bobby years and years ago who very suddenly left behind a husband and two small children - children who will not remember their mother. I think the most about the sweet miracle baby who was born despite all odds stacked against her who lived a little over three weeks. And now, I think about this man, whose odds were not in his favor 5 years ago when he was diagnosed with the disease that would one day be the cause of his demise.
I think about these people (and those they have left behind) on and off through the course of the year. As my mind wanders I always come back to this question: If the deceased could share one piece of advice with me what would it be?
The one answer that I hear whispered in my ear is the:
Don't live life as if I am granted 1000 tomorrows.
Life is not just or fair and in the blink of an eye it could all be gone. I know this. I have seen it time and time again now. I have seen a handful of people taken from this earth just like that with no rhyme or reason. People who by all measures shouldn't be the ones gone - babies, young fathers, and young mothers.
And yet. Yet I live as if I have more than 1000 tomorrows. I live my life as if I have an infinite amount of them. I live my days foolishly. I waste them. Instead of being conscientious of my limited time here on earth I spend most of my time on automatic pilot. I go through the motions and live my life as if I am a robot with no joy or extended gratitude over each breath I have the privilege of taking.
All of life is a privilege. Both sides of the coin, the yin and the yang, the good and the bad. ALL a privilege. Because the only other option is death. And while I hope someday (when I am 107) to welcome death's call I am not ready yet. There is still so much I want to see and do, to experience, to learn. But isn't that what all of those who have preceded me with their untimely deaths would say?
Because having 1000 tomorrows doesn't happen for us all. I am not guaranteed that it will happen for me, so maybe I should stop living my life as if I am.
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| (Photo courtesy of: quotefancy.com) |
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