The other night, I was talking to some friends of mine in our living room. My college roommate and her husband were visiting from Albuquerque, and the late evening had finally cooled off enough to that the house felt good and airy, not stifling of the day’s summer heat.
It was strange, the topic we had stumbled onto. We found ourselves in a conversation about dying doing what you loved.
A brother of my friend’s co-worker had recently met this fate, drowning on one of the Great Lakes during a sailing outing. A wind had come up and tossed the life vests overboard. Not wanting to be out $25 – the cost of the life vests – he turned the boat around in the increasingly bad weather to retrieve them.
That was the move that cost him his life.
The irony is terrible, but that man is now lauded – celebrated in his death for dying doing what he loved. He will always be remembered for his passion: sailing.
Weren’t that we all could be remembered that way, for claiming our life’s passion and running it out with abandon.
And I ask: Why can’t we?
It’s not that we will all die doing what we love.
But we can, each of us, be remembered for our fierce love of something.
That “something,” of course, is different for everyone. But that’s what makes the world such an intriguing study. It takes loves of many things to make the world go ‘round.
For my friend’s co-worker’s brother, that fierce love was sailing.
For my dad, it is snowmobiling.
For me, it is writing.
What love will you be remembered for? How are you living out that love today?