72 Hours

Our assignment was to write a letter to someone (anyone) addressing what affairs we would wrap up, what we hold important in our lives, given that we only had 72 hours left to live. I'm not going to do this as the very concept goes against my belief in nowness, in the importance of every moment, in not taunting death by expecting it but instead embracing its inevitability as I carry forward with optimism and ultimately a love for all I have been granted in this life.

Sure, I could break it down and say I would want to spend time with the people I love, make sure they are all okay — my family, my roommate and friend Shianne, the extended family of friends I've accrued here in Brooklyn, the man I love in San Francisco. I could say I would take back bad things I've said or do things I hadn't yet done, but that wouldn't be true.

If I were given 72 hours to live, I'd continue just as I am: experiencing life until its sudden end. That's how I live, that's how I operate. I evaluate each moment as it comes and leave it behind after it's passed. The now is just important to me if I only had 72 hours left as it would if I had 172, 1072, 1 million 72 hours left to live. Sure, there are mistakes I've made, am making, in life but those are what makes each human's existence unique and wonderful. Knowing death was coming would not pressure me to remedy my faults, fix my mistakes, mend friendships and broken bridges, or confess my undying love of my family and friends. I've worked very hard in life to live without regret. And I have none. Death would be welcome, even if I thought "it's not my time" or "I've got more living left to do." I've lived a good life, and I plan to continue doing so. I know with confidence those important in my life already know I love them, I remind them all the time. I know with confidence I have done what I can and made a difference in the lives I've touched (be they good or bad), because I know with confidence that everyone I have met has made a difference for me.

Life is about the simple thrill of waking up, that morning walk to school or work or around the block with your kids, your dog. It's about enjoyment and being a part of the world, a human part with human thoughts and human flaws and human blessings. I give what I can and accept what I need (want, too). And although I appreciate the gambit of emotions the film Biutiful brought to mind, I don't feel as though I can relate to the plight of the protagonist because I'm a different person, who doesn't feel as though I've done something wrong with my wife or kids, that my family might forget me.

I am remembered, I am acknowledged, I am loved by those I hold dear and I remember, acknowledge, and love each and every one of them the same in return. If I were to die in 72 hours, with or without warning, I would die the same: happy to have lived at all.