Elias said he learned three lessons in what he assumed would be his final moments: that everything changes in an instant, that what he regretted most was wasting time on things that did not matter, and that dying was not scary, it was sad. These lessons apply especially to the events that have occurred in my life this past year.
In 2010, the first catastrophe struck in mid-summer when a 12-year-old boy, named Drennen O’Melia, drowned in my neighborhood pool. Drennen was a talented swimmer on my swim team; he had qualified multiple times for elite swim meets and broken at least one team record. Yet somehow, three feet of water at a birthday party drowned him. I did not know Drennen on a personal level; however, I had seen him at the swim meets and remembered watching him play around with his boisterous friends. At his funeral, it was hard to watch Drennen’s classmates, teammates, teachers, parents, and especially his two young brothers, attempt to cope with his untimely death.
After this event, conditions only worsened. My best friend, who lives three houses down from me and has known me since before Kindergarten, discovered nearly five years ago that her mom had ovarian cancer. Her mom managed to heroically battle the cancer for a much longer time period than many doctors predicted she would. As summer drew to an end, though, we knew she would not last much longer, especially with the cancer creeping into her lungs. Two days before the first day of high school, she was placed into hospice care with a life expectancy of about two weeks. To our shock and bewilderment, she passed a day later, at ten o’clock pm, August 15, 2010. This happened a little over nine hours before my friend and I were scheduled to start high school. The next few weeks were rough; my friend would tear up at random moments and suddenly not be able to survive the school day, and we both cried our eyes out the next weekend at her mother’s funeral. For a long while, I hardly left my friend’s side. Eight months later we are still adjusting to life without her mom; in our community, she was influential.
And now, as I write this post, my grandpa lies dying in a hospice center eighteen hours (by car) from my home. For over twenty-five years, he has battled a constant plague of heart disease. Through multiple surgeries, including one open-heart, he has managed to maintain a decent quality of life. My grandpa was one of those people who always surpassed the life expectancies doctors set for him. In the last few years, though, he has become noticeably weaker. His condition slowly regressed; first he could no longer drive, then he needed a walker, then he couldn’t walk from the back of his house to the front even with a walker, and soon not even from his room to the adjoining bathroom. Last October, when his one kidney failed, dialysis saved his life. Then, in December (three days before Christmas), another surgery saved him from an aneurism on the brink of explosion. Exactly one week ago, a heart attack (his first in twenty-five years of heart disease), brought my grandpa to his knees. Today, he lies, majorly unconscious, in a hospice bed, no more than two days away from death. And I plan my third funeral in the course of one year.
After all of these traumatic experiences, Elias’ words bring a degree of comfort and purpose into my life, as well as additional sadness. On the one hand, Elias said that dying is not frightening. This comforts me to know that as my friends and family members died, they felt no fear. Elias also points out that we do not realize how important every moment is, how little time we truly have, and how much we need to focus every moment on what really matters to us. He believes in being happy, not right. These statements give me an outlet, a way to direct my emotions and change myself for the better. In memory of the people I love, I can live my life for joy, not superiority. On the other hand, Elias also triggered grief. Elias said that dying is not frightening; rather, it is sad. This statement reminds of my mom’s stories of my grandfather being restless, wanting to constantly stand up and walk around, despite being incapable of doing so. In the past few days, his body has faded while his mind has remained intact; he knows he is dying and cannot stand to stay put, as his body demands he do. With the three things Elias thought of when he thought his life was ending, I wonder what the people I knew thought of when they died. Did my friend’s mother regret not living to see her children grow up? Did the young boy save too many experiences for later; had he lived his life fully? Did my grandpa regret the relationships he had neglected to build? Did any of them feel like they wasted too much time on unimportant things?
When I die, I know I will ask myself these same questions. Now I have begun asking myself if what I am doing is truly important to me, if I am spending too much time on aspects of life that don’t matter and pushing off fun for later. I think everyone, no matter what stage of life they are currently in, should ask themselves these same questions. Death is a part of life; it awaits all of us, and none of us know when it will claim us. We need to live life now, not for the future or because of the past. I know thousands of people throughout history have said the same thing. For me, though, these words truly have meaning now. I have watched (two) too many people die long before their time to ever waste a day of my life for something I know I will not appreciate when I myself am moments away from death.
More about Ric Elias: http://www.redventures.com/executives/ric.php
The video above shows and animated reconstruction of the path of Flight 1549, accompanied by authentic audio tapes.
This video shows original footage of Flight 1549 crashing into the Hudson River.
To read more about Drennen O'Melia: http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_15244328
Drennen's Obituary: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/denverpost/obituary.aspx?n=drennen-peter-omelia&pid=143480970&fhid=4377
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