So on the first legitimately beautiful spring day of 2015 my friend told me she was diagnosed with an incurable lethal disease. She sat me down on her front porch on an unseasonably beautiful Monday in March and dropped a bomb in the calmest voice known to man: ALS. It hit me like a punch to the gut. Fourteen years prior I had lost my closest aunt to this abomination, and everything that lay ahead of her hit me like a ton of bricks. Her body would slowly shut down day by day while her beautiful mind stayed perfectly intact until the end. Chances are she will not see her 40th birthday. She will be dependent on others to care for her the last year of her dramatically shortened life. She will lose the ability to walk, speak, swallow and eventually breathe, almost as if being slowly crushed by some giant cosmic fist. Her loved ones will have to stand by and helplessly watch her transformation, with her reassurance that she can handle it.
But here's the thing. She sees it as an opportunity. A shitty opportunity, but an opportunity none the less. An opportunity to educate; not only about this disease, but also about squeezing every last drop of joy we can from our days on earth. To love, to play, to chase our dreams. To be kind, be generous, and be brave. All of the things she strives for and stands for she wants for others. Harv's horrible misfortune will not be her legacy...her extraordinary life will be.
But here's the thing. She sees it as an opportunity. A shitty opportunity, but an opportunity none the less. An opportunity to educate; not only about this disease, but also about squeezing every last drop of joy we can from our days on earth. To love, to play, to chase our dreams. To be kind, be generous, and be brave. All of the things she strives for and stands for she wants for others. Harv's horrible misfortune will not be her legacy...her extraordinary life will be.
