Death & Dying…

"Have the courage to live. Anyone can die." – Robert Cody

Obviously with everything approaching in our lives Heather and I have spent quite a bit of time of later thinking about death. I'd say it has been the undercurrent of our conversations ever sense we met. We knew from our very first date that we both have spent plenty of time gambling with our lives. The "Gift" of Cancer that I talked about is the gift of knowing that you are mortal. For me it is the "gift" of knowing that any given day could be my last. I have held the dead and the dying in my hands. I have watched the life ebb out of people and considered it an honor to be there in those moments. Sometimes I may have been less than reverent, but that dark-humor is a way of dealing with the grief that you feel when a fellow person goes into the great beyond.

A ways back a friend of mine was dealing with the death of her grandfather, understandably it was challenging for her. Loosing someone you love is never easy, and the emotions that come forth are challenging and difficult and confusing. I gave her my take on death and dying over the last few weeks as she prepared for that difficult transition. As I was looking back through my blogs and writing I stumbled upon these words and thought they were worth revisiting. It is something I want to share. You never know when you're going to confront this, but we all know somewhere in the back of our mind that we will.

Death is inevitable. The old adage of "You can't get out of life alive," is trite when you hear it, but it is true. So, why are we so scared of death? The obvious reason seems to be a natural fear of the unknown. We are raised with certain beliefs: Heaven and Hell; Reincarnation or Nirvana; Nothingness or Complete Unity with the Universe, but there is no proof. Every major religion has spent time trying to "prove" their mythology of an immortal soul because as people we are terrified of there not being something after this.

I think that fear comes from people who are unable to accept that this may be their one and only shot. Think about it, what would you be doing differently with your life today if you knew 100% that when you died that the electrochemical energy that drove your brain would dissipate and you would just fade into nothingness and once those capacitors in your brain were drained of their reserves of oxygen and sugar? Would you be setting aside time to work on that novel you've always wanted to write? Would you quit working so fucking hard at selling real estate and spend a few more days with your kids a month? Would you say, "Fuck this I'm going to party like a rockstar?" What would you do different?

So, I ask you… why are you taking the risk? If there is something more after this great, but the creative source of the universe put in motion the events that have brought us here to this point today. Why are we waiting for a better tomorrow? Seize the moments you have.

A few years ago a friend of mine from "Church" (church at the time was Chicago Street Pub in Joliet) was murdered after "services". The last time I saw John he had finished having a drink with friends listening to music he enjoyed in a place he felt at home at. He didn't know that he was going to walk into the middle of a burglary and get beaten to death. None of us knew it… and each of us reacted differently. Ben was just glad that as the last person to see him he gave John a smile and hand shake; Kelly was glad she'd given him a hug; Shoes wished he'd come down that night. The fact of the matter is you never know when that last moment is going to come.

I live a life that regularly places me in situations where I may not come home from work. I love my job. I love the thrill of it, and I know that at any moment I may not get out alive. February 11^th 1998, my friend, Tony Lockhart of the Chicago Fire Department Engine Company 120 died in a fire at 106^th and Western Ave. I was there. I was at the wakes for Tony and Pat King (who died at the same fire), I was at the funerals. I wake up everyday knowing that I may die today, whether it is in some fiery hell-hole in the suburbs of Chicago or teaching a class of recruits at the tower in Champaign. I put my body in situations that are just screaming to get me killed. People ask me why I do it, and my answer is always this: 1. I like to help people. There is something satisfying about being there to help your fellow man when he or she is at their worst; 2. There is nothing more satisfying to a man's soul than taking on the elemental forces of nature and kicking its ass. You feel powerful and capable of doing anything; 3. Chicks dig it. That's always been my stock punch-line to get a laugh out of a serious moment. The excitement and thrill and adulation are nice, it is a grand experience, but I also have had to come to grips with the frailty of my own life. I have had moments where I though, "Oh, okay… so we are about to see what's on the other side." I think once you have lived through that you change your out look.

Death is not something I fear, because it is not something I can escape or avoid. I will die. It's actually a liberating realization. Much like the adage attributed to the Native Americans preparing for battle saying "Today is a good day to die." Once I knew that death was a certainty then there was nothing holding me back I decided to attack life with gusto. Why not party like a Rockstar? Why not write my screenplays and this Blog? Why not spend as much time with Liam as possible? Why not hop in the car and drive an hour to see our nieces? What could possibly keep me from doing those things? There are nights I sleep about 4 hours because there is so much living to do that I don't want to miss out. There are nights that jump into bed at ten, with Heather, to make sure I don't miss out on that embrace, that warmth, that sense of being safe and loved. I accept that my body may be sore some mornings or that I may be a bit tired. Living a purpose-filled life isn't as easy on the body at 33 as it was at 23; it will likely be harder in another ten years and harder yet ten more years on. That's fine; the wonderful thing about pain is that it reminds you, you're alive.

Let's get back into life. You need to learn who you are and do the things you want to do. What are you afraid of? If you always wanted to go skydiving… fucking go! If you get hit by a bus tomorrow, what will it have mattered if you took that sick day to go party?

Life is your choice. You can be timid and meek or you can go out and attack the world around you, own every room you enter and when it is your time there will be millions of people around the world who think of you and smile.

When I die I want those people who care enough to think of me to descend on Chicago with one purpose: Celebrate my Life. You can think back on playing Dungeons & Dragons with me. Remember being part of one of the countless Theatre productions I worked on. You can be sad that you wont get to do another Irish Car Bomb with me, but don't forget about the one's we did. You can miss watching those years when my eyes would narrow and my whole body engage when that Blond-9 walked by, but don't forget laughing at me every time I came back after crashing and burning on the approach. Remember most of all the unconditional love I shared with the most amazing woman in the world. It's going to be hard for Heather when she puts me in the ground, or up on the mantle (I hope many years from now), but she will know as I do that we celebrated and danced each day. Our meaning of life has been the experience of being alive. There is no greater Bliss!

When I die I want the old three-day Irish Wake. I want to be laid out in the living room. I want a band playing Irish rebel tunes. I want the Guinness and Jameson to flow. I want every person there to tell a story about me, raise a glass and say "He was a great friend." And at some point during the evening I want the band to strike up a chorus of "Finnegan's Wake" and when the row and the ruction begins pour that water of life on me and let's see just what the healing properties of Uisce Beatha really are.