When I get back on land/Well I’ll never get my chance/Be ready to live and it’ll be ripped right out of my hands/Maybe someday we’ll take a little ride/We’ll go up, up, up and everything will be just fine
And we’ll go up, up, up/But I’ll fly a little higher…
You may have caught this on my hiatus. And if not, take the time to digest this story. I’ll be here, tissues in hand.
Rainn Wilson (Dwight from the Office) has this thing called Soul Pancake it’s a new media company that provides various platforms to explore topics such as spirituality, creativity, religion, arts, and philosophy. And one of the things that Soul Pancake has done is create this youtube series called My Last Days. It features people who know that the end is imminent, along with their friends and family. Zach Sobiech was one of the featured stories. He was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a bone cancer, at 14. At 17, Zach knew he was going to die.
It’s hard to know what you would do in a similar situation; how you would face your mortality at an age where you should be figuring out who you’re going to prom with; where you’re going to college; what you’re going to do with your life.
I have enough of a problem with my own mortality and I have a decade on Zach. And for me, the end isn’t spelled out. I have trouble living in the moment and enjoying it.
But Zach? Zach lived and enjoyed the moment. He went to school, he had a girlfriend, he had dreams. He didn’t stop living until the end.
One of his dreams was to be a recorded musician. He did that. And not only did he do that, but he wrote an incredible song – a goodbye to his friends and family. One that was without a doubt incredibly personal and intimate. But he shared it with the world.
And every time I listen to this song, I’m reminded of Zach’s grace and dignity. I appreciate the way that he acknowledges the darker, less happy moments. After all, it IS an incredibly frightening time – but you can tell he’s at peace. And I’m reminded of the same attitudes and the grace and dignity I’ve seen in others who are faced with their mortality – like this incredible patient of my mom’s, Emily.
And I remember to keep living for the moment. Because we never know what’s next.