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Tomorrow
The tragedy of the tsunami that hit South Asia this
past December, the pain and suffering surrounding
the Terri Schiavo story, and even the recent death
of Pope John Paul II have all inspired me to
re-evaluate my own existence. Like many others that
have been through a life-threatening illness, I took
this journey a few years back after my cancer
diagnosis. But I must constantly check myself to
make sure that I do not get lost and forget the
valuable lessons that that hardship and pain taught
me. The only certainty we can count on is the
uncertainty of life. Twists and turns come without
warning, and all that we perceive to be true can
change in a fleeting instant.
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Singer-songwriter and
breast-cancer survivor Soraya serves as the
Latin ambassador for the Susan G. Komen
Breast Cancer Foundation. |
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The tragedy of the tsunami that hit South Asia this
past December, the pain and suffering surrounding
the Terri Schiavo story, and even the recent death
of Pope John Paul II have all inspired me to
re-evaluate my own existence. Like many others that
have been through a life-threatening illness, I took
this journey a few years back after my cancer
diagnosis. But I must constantly check myself to
make sure that I do not get lost and forget the
valuable lessons that that hardship and pain taught
me. The only certainty we can count on is the
uncertainty of life. Twists and turns come without
warning, and all that we perceive to be true can
change in a fleeting instant.
I think of the tourists sitting on the beach,
looking out at the vast Indian Ocean, watching their
kids play in the sand. Then, in a few short,
terrifying moments, all is gone. I think of the
villagers, those that survived, wading through the
muck searching for their lost lives. The “I should
have”s or “I wish I had”s do not exist anymore.
There is no time for a warm hug, a long gaze, or
another “I love you.” The tomorrow they had
envisioned will never come. That time is gone.
I think of Terri Schiavo. I look at the picture of
her before the heart attack that began her demise.
How beautiful she was. Then I see the picture seen
by millions around the world, the one with the blank
look and open mouth. In the prime of her youth, why
would she have thought to prepare a living will? She
was young and vibrant with a long, healthy life
ahead of her. But in a brief moment, all of that
changed. Her tomorrow became encapsulated in a
hospital bed with an endless stream of minutes
flowing agonizingly into themselves. She is now
physically gone, and we will never know how much she
suffered nor what her wishes truly were. Her family
is left shattered while she is now finally resting.
The tomorrow they were all looking forward to
dissolved the day she lost consciousness.
I think of Pope John Paul II. Having seen
Parkinson’s disease and life’s time clock break down
someone very close to me, I breathed a sigh of
relief when the pope passed. He had a full life. He
accomplished much. His passing is a joyous occasion.
Death is inevitable, and it should be welcomed at
the end of a good life. Sometimes tomorrow comes
just as it should.
We have become so attached that we forget that all
we love, all we have, all we aspire to be is on
loan. Life and love are gifts for us to cherish and
treasure, but they are gifts that can go away
without warning. That is what makes love so intense.
That is what makes life a miracle. The uncertainty
of tomorrow is what should inspire us to appreciate
the here and now.
Youth tricks us into thinking that we can prepare
and plan. Fresh faces think that time is on their
side and nothing will ever go wrong. Tomorrow, they
think. There is always tomorrow. I don’t have to
think about that now. I’ll tell him how I really
feel about him some other day. Maybe next year I’ll
go get a check-up. I’ll take care of that later.
I’ll say thanks to my mom next weekend. Tomorrow
it’ll be fine.
But when tomorrow came for me, I ended up sitting in
front of my doctor in a peach-colored gown hearing
from him that my life was no longer what I thought
it would be. When tomorrow came for the families of
the tsunami victims, they were searching for bodies
and cleaning up the rubble that was once their
homes. When tomorrow came for Terri Schiavo, she
could no longer express her emotions or thoughts.
When tomorrow came for Pope John Paul II, he must
have felt relief to be freed from the body that had
failed him.
Take a moment to think about all that you put aside
until tomorrow. Call your mom or dad. Make amends
with an estranged friend. Spend a long moment
holding your child and memorizing every turn in his
or her face. Make time to take care of yourself.
Turn off the television and have a conversation with
a loved one.
When you love knowing that love is a gift, when you
know that your body is your temporary gift in this
lifetime, when you realize that none of our material
possessions matter nor remain with us when the loan
is called in, that is when you are freed to truly
live.
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