It's Short, and It Goes By Fast

On Friday, July 12, my friend Steve was standing on a platform in Grand Central Station, waiting for his train home from work.

Another summer, another Friday, another day in the city.

Around 5:30 he suffered a massive brain aneurysm and fell to the ground.

By Sunday morning he was gone.

Eleven days shy of his 47th birthday, Steve was a young man. He was quick to smile and had an infectious laugh. He was active and fit. He worked out at a gym. He was deeply involved in his church.

He leaves a beautiful wife and two beautiful girls, all of whom he adored, and they him. Our daughters have been best friends since pre-K and our families are close.

In his short lifetime, Steve touched a countless number of people. I know this because over the past week I've met so many of them, too many of his friends and family and colleagues to count.

At Steve's funeral service, the pastor eulogized Steve as a good man, and unquestionably, he was.

I say Steve was not merely a good man, he was the best of men.

From what I understand, police and emergency services were quick to respond on that day. Still, I think of Steve lying on that platform in Grand Central, surrounded by people yet so utterly alone. It breaks my heart and terrifies me at the same time.

That could be me. It could be you. It could be any one of us. It is a bitter demonstration that life is short, and it goes by fast.

At a time like this, some would say "live every day like it's your last," and this is a fantastic idea... for millionaires, single people, and renters.

But in the real world, if I lived every day like it was my last I'd stop going to work and I'd keep my kids home from school and my family would spend every day just doing fun stuff and laughing.

I'd also drink a lot of Scotch. Which I do now anyway, but it would seem more justified somehow if it was my "last" day.

This fun loving bacchanal would last about a week I think, maybe two, until I could no longer make the mortgage payment, or cover the school tuition, until the fridge was empty and the cars were out of gas. Until the truant officer (because believe it or not they still exist) or social services came knocking on the door to find out why the hell my kids weren't in school.

So that's not going to work for me.

I've decided instead to take the City Slickers approach. Remember City Slickers? Billy Crystal plays a radio ad salesman deep in the funk of a mid life crisis. He and a couple of his city friends go on a cattle drive to bond and find the meaning of life. After learning some life lessons in the big air of the open west, Crystal returns with a renewed sense of purpose, determined not to chuck his life in the trash, but simply to do it better. To do his job better, to love his family better. To do everything better.

For me that means a few things. It means to suffer fools a little more gladly, at work and in every day life.  It means to have more patience at home with my wife and my girls. Although I know they know I love them, I will still hug them a little harder, and a little longer, and tell them more often. But it can't just be words, I will show them in my actions, in the things I do, and just as importantly, don't do. I will try to think less about myself, and more of others.

In short, I will try to be more like Steve.

If there is a heaven, Steve is there right now, unquestionably. He's discovered his purpose, why the Lord needed him so much, why God keeps taking all the good people from down here and sending them up there.

I know you're doing good up there Steve.  If I'm lucky enough to get there someday, you can show me the ropes.