To Live Like You’re Dying

I was talking to my mom on the phone last week and she mentioned recent scan results. She has been battling a rare stage 4 cancer for the past 9 years. It detected tumor growth, which is never good news. But at the end of the call, all she wished to do was drive around and see the perennials in bloom.

There are endless lessons that come from this journey, but the truth that it always comes down to the small things, like seeing seasonal blooms, is the one that continues to rise to the top.

I've long imagined that in the face of death, everything quickly changes. The Tim McGraw of it all. What I've seen, is different. Everything stands still and the very normal becomes holy. Like a slow collecting of yourself to the center — the finding of treasures right in front of you.

This poem is inspired by the way I've watched my mom fight, how death brings the present into sharp focus and how my dad always jokes, “Everyone is dying but not everyone is living.” So true.

—

There is nothing romantic about a timeline.

We’re all walking one right now.

If we were to live like we were dying

we wouldn't go somewhere new

or ride a bull named Fu Manchu.

There is nothing inspiring about an ending

or charming about suffering.

To live like we were dying

we would come home, let go and

be pulled into the present.

Right here, right now …