For the briefest of moments my freshmen year of college, I thought I was going to die. As I laid in my hospital bed breathing in what I thought to be my last breaths and soaking in my perceived last moments, I began looking back on my life. To be completely honest, I wasn’t really satisfied with what I saw. My life was empty in a way, a shell of what it could have been. Laying there and seriously reflecting on my life through the lens of my own impending demise taught me more about myself than anything ever has. That day altered me in ways I still don’t truly understand and it has become a day I think about more and more of as of late. I don’t know why I am writing about this but, I feel like it’s something that I need to share.
On that day I learned I wasn’t afraid of dying, I was afraid of not being remembered. We all die eventually but for some of us our memory lives on. Whether that be through our friends, the things we created, the people we inspired, or the impacts we made in our communities. As I lay there, listening to my IV tube drip, I couldn’t think of that one thing that was different because of me. I couldn’t think of that one change I made that would forever bare my memory and that scared me so much more than the thought of death. Every day since then I wake up and try to make a difference in some notable way. My dearest hope is that if I am ever confronted with my own death again that I can greet it knowing I have made my mark on the world.
Recommended for you
I looked back on my life and realized I had never actually lived. Sure, I had moments in my life that were filled with happiness, love, and wonder. But, I saw that most of my life revolved way to much around the idea of being serious and stoic. I never did sporadic things, I never got in trouble, and I never did things just to say I had. Life is about the experiences you share with those around you. Its about the laughs you struggle to hold, the smiles the creep into the corners of your mouth, and the memories that never cease to be retold. After that day I made a commitment to myself to enjoy life while I can because nothing is worse than squandering the short amount of time we all possess.
Now for the less uplifting part. I had never known true fear before I was admitted to that hospital. I remember so distinctly laying in that stark white bed crying because I thought that I was going to die alone in a hospital hundreds of miles away from my family. I had always thought I was strong, nearly invincible man. Never have I been so wrong. I broke down in that bed and gave into all of my insecurities and fears. For those of you who know, you know I am a pretty staunch atheist, but on that day I certainly wasn’t. I prayed to any God I could think of and begged them to spare me. That day was and is my darkest hour because it broke me. After I left the hospital I barely slept for a couple weeks because as I was alone in the dark the fear I had felt in that bed took hold of me. I thought I was unbreakable until I shattered.
Death is something we don’t talk about much as a society. It’s something we understand we all must face but we push it to the back of our mind until we have to face it. Please, for all of you reading this do me a small favor. Live life fully and with no regrets, tell those you care about that you love them, and never once for a second stop doing what makes you happy. We get just one life and it can be taken from us at any time.
Thank you.
