Going out doing what I love... My Passion

Call me crazy, but I have dreamed of my death. In my dream I'm old, probably in my 90s, laying in a bed surrounded by my children and their children. Which is all well and good, but that's not how I wish to depart this reality.

All of us will eventually shuffle off, leaving only the memory of us in the ones we love and who loved us.

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

Although, technically I'm not even supposed to be alive! As a child I was diagnosed with All Lymphatic Leukemia, and back in the early 70s the survival rate wasn't exactly the best. At one point the doctors told my father they needed to operate to remove the lymph nodes in my neck, and when he refused the doctors proclaimed I would die. "We are all going to die... No one gets out of this alive,"  was my dad's reply

Obviously I survived... they never did operate and a little while later I finally went into remission. That instilled the mantra into my head as I grew up: 

It doesn't matter how we die, only how we live.

Photo by Harley-Davidson on Unsplash

Last weekend, while I was in Alexandria Bay at the Thousand Islands River Run, I heard the news from New Hampshire. Word of the accident spread quickly through our biker community not only because we're somewhat close to the area (just a day ride), but also because we've got Fort Drum Army Post literally in our back yard (and most of the victims were former Marines). 

Going back to my youth again, growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area in the 80s and 90s, I had quite a few friends pass away from a terminal illness that left their bodies weak and frail. For some it was all they could do just to sit up in bed. There was no way for them to do what they loved, even if that was just a walk in the park.

This past weekend there was also news from Hawaii: a plane carrying skydivers had gone down. In the news coverage, the girlfriend of one of the victims had said, "...he loved what he did and he died doing what he loved, so it was beautiful." 

Yes, both accidents were tragedies. And yes, both should never have happened. However, that is as much a part of the circle of life as life itself: birth, life, death, repeat.

And, if given the choice between a long suffering illness where my body and/or mind could betray me and I'm left virtually helpless, or a quick accident where I was doing something I enjoyed, I'd take the later. If at all possible, I'd like to go out doing what I love.