Living and Loving Life

I believe in living. When I was nine years old, my father left for work and did not return for four months. He was a police officer in a small New Hampshire city. The phone rang shortly after his shift started and the voice on the other end told my mother that she would most likely become a widow before the night was out. My father had been run over by a semitruck while directing traffic. The accident stopped his heart and broke his back.

My mother was only twenty-nine years old at the time. She went from taking care of my sister and me to caring for my father, too. His disability was profound and long term but throughout his suffering, he would repeat the same phrase: “I am not ready to die yet.” I grew up hearing this phrase over and over again. A few years later my uncle, who lived next door, took his own life just minutes after I had spoken to him. These two events changed my life but I did not realize it at the time.

My father almost had his life taken from him and wanted to live while my uncle, who had everything to live for, took his life. As I grew up, I watched my father struggle through his disabilities and health issues. It was difficult to see but I learned that he was not ready to give up. He wanted to live.

On my thirty-third birthday I received a call from a doctor who informed me that I had a terminal illness. I was devastated. My mind was consumed with thoughts of not being alive to see my daughter get married or my son graduate high school.

On the way home one night, I stopped my car on a bridge over a local lake and watched the sun set. At first I didn’t notice that I was blocking traffic. Once I realized it, though, I decided I didn’t care: the sunset was beautiful and I was going to watch it.

In those days my father’s words came back to me: I am not ready to die yet. I decided I was going to really live what little life I had left. My relationships with people started to change. I began to tell people what I really thought. I held my children and my wife in a way that I had not done before. I wanted to live each day as if it were my last.

One month later I received another call from the doctor who told me that a terrible mistake had been made and that the test was wrong. I was fine. I was thrilled to get this news but soon realized that my life had changed forever. Despite my terminal diagnosis I was having too much fun.

Now ten years later, my days are consumed with living. I go to every one of my daughter’s high school basketball games. I am the loudest and most positive one in the stands. My son’s Little League team challenged me to dye my hair pink if they made a double play in the next game. They did it and I did it. When it happened again, the players wanted green hair. They got it. I am living. I have an amazing sense of freedom. I am loving life.

A month ago my father had a heart attack. Things looked grim and I flew home to be with him. When I arrived, he was surprised to see me. He said, “What are you doing here? I’m not ready to die yet.”

I smiled, hugged him, and told him that I loved him.

Keith Wagner lives in The Woodlands, Texas, with his wife, Joanne, and two children, Victoria (Tori) and Kyle. He owns and operates his own insurance agency. Mr. Wagner has written a top-ten list of things to do before he dies. He is on number four.