The Present Is Where I Live

I’ve had more experience with death than I ever thought I would; more than I ever wanted. The amount of pain that I’ve endured cannot be measured. I’ve known physical devastation to the point of battling for life. I’ve felt the anguish of losing loved ones with whom I helped during their own battle, and was with in their final moments. Oddly enough, I’ve learned not to worry about death, but to appreciate life.

In my late twenties I was in a serious auto accident. I should have been dead on arrival. I spent 12 days in intensive care, with a broken body and damaged lungs. Twice I came very close to dying. It would have been easy to let death take me. It was up to me. But both times I fought, not because I feared death but because I loved life.

Later, when my mother was dying of lymphoma, I helped take care of her. When her time was near, I found a familiarity with the process she was going through. I’d been there myself. At the very end I began to stroke her hair. It comforted her and she let go.

When one of my boys lost his two year battle with melanoma I was with him, too. For the last year of his life I was a caregiver and we were each others main companions. We often talked about life and death and what lies beyond. We could talk about that. And when his time came I was looking into his eyes at the very instant his spirit left. He was 30 years old. It broke my heart.

My own encounter with death taught me this: Never take life for granted. Life can be a fleeting thing, a delicate and fragile thing. It can be gone in an instant. And truly, the simple little things are what really matter. I’ll never forget my first breath of fresh air after spending almost two weeks on a ventilator in ICU. A nurse wheeled me over to a window that was open just a crack. I leaned forward to breathe in the fresh air. I was nearly overwhelmed with joy. Right then I vowed to always savor that single breath of fresh air.

I like to work hard. I care about the future. I think about the past. But the present is where I live. I try to always savor that breath of fresh air. I enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning with my wife, watching the big yellow butterflies in my yard, hanging out with the kids, and laughing at one of my brother’s awful jokes.

Keeping perspective is my greatest challenge. Without indulging myself, I try not to let life pass me by. There must be a harmony between the big important things in life, and those simple little joys. When my life is near its end, I want look back and know that I didn’t squander my time in the present.