If You Died Tomorrow

If you died tomorrow, what would you be most proud of?

I want to be very clear—I am not dying, no one is dying, these photos from my multiple medical visits in this past month represent nothing life-threatening whatsoever. Really. Really really.

However, it would be preposterous not to acknowledge the novel thought patterns which a mystery abdominal condition that, after decades of attempts, remains only partially diagnosed will inspire.

I’ve found myself reflecting upon such questions as “How much more weight will I lose before someone figures this thing out and tells me how I can comfortably eat again?” and “Did I really get through this bizarre history of mine only to be taken out of the game by something so prosaic?” and of course “Would I still make the Asylum musical if I couldn’t act in it?” (that’s a big one, and I’ll leave the answer for another day).

But what I’ve been pondering most is the question I am now asking you, and, despite the seemingly morbid title, I’ve found it a wonderfully uplifting one.

The point of the question isn’t the “dying tomorrow” part. The point is—and I am going to make a gross assumption here—I suspect that, when most of us think of what we will be proud of at the end of our earthly lives, we are thinking of something that we have not yet accomplished.

Well, that’s not going to help you out of this pickle, my friend, because you’ve got to choose from what you’ve already produced. From your current store of achievements. That’s all you get.

But what if that’s all you need?

“If you didn’t get to contribute anything more to this world,” I dared to ask myself tonight, “if you were going to die tomorrow, what amongst the things you have already accomplished would you be the most proud of?”

And the answers came to me instantly.

Effortlessly.

As if they had always been there, waiting with a divine tolerance for a sliver of light to reveal their value.

And they were not at all what I would have thought.

1. I would be proud of turning so many people on to Shakespeare.

2. I would be proud of inspiring even a few souls to think differently enough about rats that they rescued them from pet shops where they were being sold as snake food and loved them.

3. I would be proud of holding a weeping young girl tightly in my arms at a meet-and-greet and knowing that I left her stronger than I had found her.

There. That’s it. And now, there is only one thing left to do: Change “I would be” to “I am.” And not because it’s important to be proud of one’s self—it isn’t. But because these are the moments to say “thank you” for. The ones that remind us that we have indeed lived.

Your turn.

Closing thoughts: I am wildly proud of other people, but the sentiment seemed as out of placed when directly inwardly as being romantically attracted to one’s self might be. I didn’t know what it felt like. But, because I gave myself permission to go to a place I would ordinarily cross the street to avoid, now I know. And it is warm. And soft. And I don’t have to wait for tomorrow.

Neither do you.